


The Art of Stalking Your Prey

by triskellionquinn



Series: Prey [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Anxiety and panic attacks, Blood, Gay, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More tags to be added, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Original character is a side character don't worry, Psychological Torture, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rimming, Sequel, Thancred/WoL Bromance, There is non-con, Torture, Violence, can't stress that enough, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-08 23:25:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12264225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triskellionquinn/pseuds/triskellionquinn
Summary: Zenos Yae Galvus is dead, but the Warrior of Light is not quite as unscathed as he appears. Is he going crazy, or is he truly being haunted by the ghost of that maniac?





	1. Damaged But Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I took a poll on Tumblr and 68% of you wanted me to write the sequel. I've been toying with which direction this fic will take, and to be honest... I have no idea where the fuck the story plans on going. It'll be a surprise to us all. As usual, it's not beta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Morning came with a bite of cold, the dew on the lush blades of grass frosting over as the weather dipped into colder days. Thancred pulled the furs up around his shoulders a little more, but once he was aware that he was awake, it was difficult to fall back asleep. Opening his eyes groggily, the rogue immediately registered that his friend had vacated the tent, probably already up for the day. It didn't pass Thancred's notice that the Warrior seemed to be sleeping less and less these days. Consistently skittish, looking over his shoulder when he thought no one was watching. It worried the Hyur, since he had never once seen his normally levelheaded friend seem so paranoid before. Just a stoic nod and a drive to do what must be done, despite the danger it posed.

Pushing the furs off his legs, Thancred vacated the warm cocoon of his cot and stretched his arms over his head. His back cracked as he worked out the tightness in his muscles with some slow stretches. He wasn't used to sleeping on a cot, or in a bed in general these days. He had been living quite roughly in the time since that mess in Ul'dah. When they had all been separated, and the last time they had seen Minfilia... Shaking his head, Thancred pushed aside his thoughts, bottling up the emotions that threatened to well up inside because he was a perfectly functional person and it was definitely a healthy thing for him to do. As he pushed his feet into his boots and tugged the worst of the wrinkles out of his clothing, Thancred ran a hand through his hair and momentarily wished for a mirror to ensure he looked as roguishly handsome as possible. Not that it seemed to matter here, despite his best efforts to win the heart of the very gentile Cirina, she seemed woefully reluctant to accept his flattery and charm. Though, Thancred would admit, he had not been in top flirtation form in some time, as if the art of wooing and romancing the fairer sex had lost some of its luster. Or perhaps he had simply changed over the last few years.

Once again his thoughts were bottled and sealed in his mind and set aside on some dark shelf to be forgotten. It didn't do to dwell on the facts that would bring no fruition or reprieve after all. The last several days had been filled with talk of taking their leave of the Mol's hospitality, though neither the Warrior nor the Scion knew where they were to head next. Perhaps back to Yanxia to aid the Doma Resistance in any way they could. There was still work to be done. From what they had last heard, there was a recovery process shifting amongst the rubble of Doma Castle to recover what they could from the wreckage. The Warrior had mused the question of what it was exactly that Prince Hien was scouring the ruins for, or whom.

The Mol encampment was already buzzing with life as Thancred stepped out to greet the morning air. The cooler weather was immediately recognized as his exposed skin rippled with goosebumps at the first touch of fresh air, and a part of him wished he had thought to grab one of the furs from the cot to wrap around himself. But the sight of the Warrior just off across the encampment chased the thoughts of a warm bed away. Thancred watched with slight marvel as muscles flexed with movement, each strike strong and carrying a lethal grace that Thancred had seen in actual combat several times before.

 _As if it never happened..._ Thancred thought to himself as he watched the Warrior spar with one of the Mol tribesmen. But even as he thought that, the rogue was catching certain tells in the way each punch was throw, how each strike was blocked. Harder, faster, pushing himself... It was a detrimental cycle that Thancred knew all too well. The effort to get stronger, to deny that feeling of weakness and helplessness again. He had experienced himself when he lost control of his own body to that accursed Ascian.

A collective group of gasps and some groans of sympathy brought the hyur's mind back to the sparing duo. The Mol warrior was on his back, coughing as he tried to drag some oxygen back into his lungs. Thancred winced slightly before shaking his head and chuckling as he approached the encircled group. Holding out a hand to the bested Xaela, he helped the poor man to his feet.

   "Come now my friend, the very least you could do is hold back a little." Thancred said, looking over his shoulder to the Warrior of Light. The look he got was sheepish, if not a little guilty. Feeling a need to remedy his open statement, Thancred shrugged a shoulder and stepped into the circle, outstretching his arms almost casually. "It's been some time since I've sparred against anyone hand-to-hand, and I do not think drunken bar brawls are quite the same experience. Do try not to aim for the face though, I would much rather walk away with my pride battered and bruised than my more redeeming attribute." He said, sensing that his friend needed an outlet. After all they've been through, providing that outlet was the least he could do. Though by the time the first strike landed, the Hyur quickly learned to regret his decision.

Thancred dug his feet in, but he still felt the soles of his boots slide in the grass. The frost was melting now that the sun was up, but it was making for some slippery terrain. Before he had a chance to correct his footing though, a leg was swinging into his vision and he just barely had time to deflect the blow before it could knock him solidly on his backside. Following up with a counter attack, Thancred grabbed onto the outstretched leg and pulled, using the slick grass to his advantage. Sure enough, the warrior's foot slipped out from under him and he hit the ground with a grunt. Thancred moved in immediately, knowing he had the upper hand. Dropping his weight on top of the Warrior, Thancred went to pin the other and declare victory when he felt the unnatural stiffness and tension in the figure below him.

A quick glance at the Warrior's face had his stomach dropping suddenly. The other was pale, his pupils dilated with panic and he was entirely too still. Thancred moved to pull back, an apology coming to his lips when two hands wrapped into the front of his shirt and a foot planted itself squarely in his stomach. Before he knew what was happening, the rogue was being tossed right over the Warrior of Light, landing heavily on his back as the air made a quick escape of his lungs. Gasping inaudibly for a moment or two, Thancred eventually managed to drag a ragged breath in before rolling onto his side and pushing himself up onto his elbow. But when he got his head to stop spinning and his vision to focus, he realized that the Warrior was not there anymore, and instead there was a gap between the crowd that had gathered around them with several Xaela looking off towards the distance, as if someone had shoved their way through and ran off.

Regret and guilt tasted like acid in his mouth, sour and vile and it took him a moment or two to gather himself and eventually stagger to his feet. His stomach hurt, as well as his head. A headache was threatening already, probably the result of smacking against the ground coupled with a sudden lack of oxygen to his brain for a brief time. Rubbing the back of his head for a moment to ensure no swelling would occur, Thancred followed in the direction of the swiftly retreating Warrior of Light.

Eventually the retreating male came to a stop, dropping down onto a rock and sprawling his legs out in front of him, staring off at the open plains and the warm light of the sun that would soon warm the whole of the Azim Steppe. Thancred noted that the other had sat over to the left, as if leaving space for someone to sit beside him. The rogue did just that, sitting down a little more gingerly, already feeling the effect of being thrown so vigorously. Thancred didn't say anything, sitting silently beside someone he had come to see as a dear friend and a fearsome ally. It was hard to believe just how far they had come in such short years, and when he looked back on his past he very vaguely recognized himself. He had been naive, in the worst possible way. Even now, that naivety was there, a consistent reminder that he was not nearly as mature as he tried to portray. He still had much to learn.

A slight weight against the hyur's shoulder drew him from his thoughts as the male at his side leaned into him, bringing his attention back to his friend. The Warrior still wasn't looking at him, his gaze fixed ahead at the way the sun light up the rich grassy plains of the Steppe. Always looking ahead, never looking back. Was it because he was afraid to look to the past? Afraid to see what shadows chased at their heels that they thought had long since been vanquished? Thancred firmed his lips with determination. While he knew that there was something bothering the Warrior, something much larger than the hellish events a mere two moon's cycle past, he knew that nothing would come of prying. The other was quite well known for keeping his silence, only letting actions speak where words could not. Following in the same spirit as the Warrior to his left, Thancred leaned into the warm weight in return, silently responding that all was forgiven.

He didn't know how long they sat on that rock, just leaning into the others weight in silence, but by the time either moved, his backside had long since grown numb on the hard surface. Slowly staggering to his feet, much to the amusement of the Warrior of Light, Thancred fought the urge to roll his eyes in jest as he extended his hand to help the other up. "I think it's time for breakfast, what say you?" He asked, getting a nod in response that had him shaking his head in amusement. Always with the nodding, at least there was something familiar. Leading the way back towards the Mol encampment, Thancred didn't see the wary glance the Warrior stole over his shoulder as they walked away. As if he were certain that someone... or something... was watching them.


	2. Careful Comforting With a Dash of Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured out where the story's gonna go! Kind of. I mean, it's still writing itself, but we'll pretend like I actually plan this shit out. No beta again, so all mistakes are mine.

Several nights had passed since the day they had sparred. Neither of them brought it up, not wanting to breach the unspoken truce between them that the events that happened aboard the Garlean airship were to stay in the past. But that was before Thancred woke to the screaming of his companion in the dead of night. The rogue shot upright in bed, his hand on his weapon as he tossed the blankets and furs covering his legs off to the side. A panicked sweep of the tent showed that they were very much alone, no intruder could be immediately pinpointed in the shadow of the tent. Thancred then turned his concerned gaze to the Warrior in the cot beside his. The others skin was slick with sweat, and he was yelling. Not in fear, but in anger, threatening a man who was nothing more than a stain on their pasts. Hearing Zenos Yae Galvus' name was not a pleasant awakening for Thancred, and he assumed the same for the Mol that the other was no doubt wrenching from their sleep, but it carried a weight that had Thancred breathing out a sigh as if the air itself were being pushed from his chest.

He sheathed his weapon, not wanting to wake the other and risk getting a nasty surprise for his efforts, and approached the cot. At first his voice was soft, trying to coax the other from the nightmare that held him captive, but as the behavior persisted, and several voices began to ring out amid the Mol encampment, Thancred knew that enough was enough. He reached for his friend, gripping his shoulder tight and giving him a rough shake. "Wake up!" He said loudly, deflecting the responsive blow swung at his face as the other jerked violently from the grips of his dreams.

Silence followed, almost deafening in the wake of the yelling. Thancred could barely make out the details of the others face in the darkened tent. Clammy skin, lips quivering with the effort to keep the remaining screams to himself. Even the fist encased in his own trembled, and Thancred practically felt the tension and fight deflate from his friend, leaving him looking raw and vulnerable. Even the Warrior of Light isn't invincible... Thancred thought to himself as he simply watched his friend, trying to gauge whether or not it would be safe to move. He did so, just a little, but froze again when he saw the slight flinch. The rogue felt conflicted, never the one to be the comforting type. Well, not the type of comfort that his friend needed. Usually that was Minfilia's or even Yda--Lyse... Thancred shook his head. It was still so strange to call her by a different name after so long. But they were the type to know just what it was that was required from them when someone was upset. Thancred couldn't do anything, and yet it was him that the Warrior of Light was currently reaching for. Perhaps it was because he was the only person here, but he said nothing as he felt a hand ever so tentatively curl into the fabric of his shirt.

He tried to put himself in the shoes of the other Scions, trying to think about what they would do in this situation. Ever so slowly, and ever so awkwardly, Thancred lifted his arms and wrapped them around the Warrior, drawing him into a hug. It was simple enough, and no words needed to be spoke. Thancred just sat there, listening to trembling breaths as they eased, the tension bleeding from the limbs and muscles encased in his hug. It took several minutes, but he eventually felt two arms lift and wrap around him in return, squeezing so tightly that for a brief moment Thancred was forced to let out a grunt of discomfort for fear of there being some significant bruising once the hug released.

The sound of approaching footsteps outside their tent had the Warrior tensing in his arms, but thankfully no one entered the tent. Both men relaxed a little when Cirina's clear voice came through the heavy covering over the entrance to the tent. 

   "Is everything alright? We heard... Um. We thought we heard arguing?" She said uncertainly. She didn't know what had transpired in the last several moons that had brought the Khagan back to the Steppes, but she had sensed that hospitality and tranquility were necessary. It was the least they could do after all the help they received at the Naadam. There was a beat before Thancred spoke up, since he didn't think his friend quite trusted his ability to speak right then.

   "It's... Nothing." The rogue said, looking down at the Warrior. The other wasn't looking at him, his eyes closed as if trying to shut the rest of the world out. "I apologize for waking everyone, I will endeavor to keep it down in the future." Thancred said, taking the blame for the yelling. He felt the Warrior lift his head from his chest, but Thancred's attention was turned to the tent entrance, willing Cirina to just accept the lie and walk away. There was a longer pause, and Thancred could practically feel Cirina's doubt through the wall of the tent.

   "If... You insist. Good night then." Cirina said uncertainly, and for a moment Thancred thought she was going to say something else before he heard the sound of a soft sigh and her light footsteps trailing away from the tent over the grass.

Thancred didn't move for some time, at least until he felt the arms around his waist loosen and the Warrior drew himself away. Thancred let him go, his gaze watchful and concerned. Even in the darkness of the tent, he could see the sheen of cold sweat on the others face, and he wouldn't be surprised if the other was paler than Coerthas after a fresh snow fall. Thancred adjusted his position so that both feet were on the floor and he was able to rest his elbows on his knees. Folding his hands between his legs, he leaned forward on his elbows and lowered his gaze to the floor. He could barely make it out in the darkness, but he stared nonetheless. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked solemnly. If there was something happening that got even the famed Warrior of Light screaming in the night, Thancred couldn't very well sit back and do nothing. Even if his help was not welcome, he would offer what he could of it.

The cot shifted behind him, the sound of a lean figure flopping back onto their side with their back to him. Thancred looked back over his shoulder, but his friend wasn't looking at him. Nor had he responded. Thancred frowned at the action, but nodded his understanding. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then." He said, moving to grab his boots and start his day. He didn't think he would be able to fall asleep again after that kind of wake up call. But the moment he tried to move away, a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him right back where he started. Looking back at the Warrior with a baffled expression, it took Thancred a moment to realize that the Warrior's silence wasn't out of stubbornness, but of vulnerability. Sobering his expression, he looked down to the hand clinging to his shirt tightly. Reaching up, he eased the clenched fingers from the fabric and simply threaded them with his own. It had been a long time since he's held anyone's hand, let alone a man's, but he wasn't going to allow that comment to tumble out of his mouth and destroy the fragile quiet between them.

Thancred laid back down on the cot beside his friend, their hands entwined. It wasn't sexual, but it was intimate. Satisfying the need to feel the warmth of someone close, to solidify the knowledge that this was indeed reality, and the images that plagued one's mind in sleep were nothing short of nightmares.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

Aulus mal Asina, a scientist many believed to be both deranged, and very dead, pushed his spectacles higher up on his nose as he tapped away at the console. It had been difficult to procure a proper facility, especially on such limited time, but he was finally confident that he had everything in place. The technology was rudimentary at best, but then again it was difficult to replicate his experiments from Ala Mhigo with what little he could salvage from the primitive locals. But he had done what he could, and the containment unit was operational. It had been very touch and go for the last two months since the airship was brought out of the sky, and while he had escaped with his life, and half of someone else', he was dismayed to learn that not only had the research aboard the airship been destroyed, but the mongrels now had their hands on the dragon. What he would give to study the creature, to learn how the aether pulsed through its veins. The primals were veritable gods, were they not? Would one not wish to know how they truly lived and breathed when one wished to replicate that very existence in another?

  
The violet-haired scientist moved from console to containment unit, peering through the glass at the Garlean prince, Zenos Yae Galvus. Or at least... What was left of him. The last months had been testing, and death did not treat the body kindly. What limbs had rotten away were capped off with grafted metal to prevent further infection and decay. The man's terrifyingly handsome face was gaunt and discolored as death ravaged the flesh. But the body was only a vessel for the soul and the aether that coursed through it. So long as the host body prevailed, one would assume so would the proverbial spirit.

  
The last stems of his research in the halls of the Ala Mhigan palace had been most impressive. He had managed to expel the very soul from the body, but he had not been expecting such a force of will to rebel. It seems that one would need a soul to willingly leave their frail, broken body. Only then could they make one anew. One that was stronger, faster, and would not fail so easily. It was only by the grace of those in a hurry to stop the onslaught brought on by the Garlean prince himself that Aulus was able to make his escape. They did not look back to see if he was indeed finished, rushing head first into the next battle ahead. The Warrior of Light had been among those that stormed the castle, headstrong and determined. It was a quality that Aulus could both admire, and mock. It had been that very behavior that had him rushing after the prince with no allies to fight at his side.

  
A coil of red mist passed over the glass in front of his face, and the scientist felt a smile pull at his thin lips. "Welcome back. How was your meal, my Lord?" He asked casually, following the mist to the source, a swirling mass of near violent energy. It pulsed and throbbed, as if trying to solidify, but when it couldn't a tendril lashed out and slammed a tray of beakers and an assortment of tools across the room. Aulus fought the urge to sigh. At least he had been quite finished with those.

  
   "I understand your disdain for the... lesser quality of your recent meals, but it's important that you feed--." He said, letting out the sigh this time as the red mist slapped another table, this one stacked with books and papers and sending them scattering. It was going to take him forever to sort that again. Finally the mist settled, as if it needed to blow off some steam before it was able to condense. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.

  
Two legs formed, then a torso. Bare as the day he was born, and would be reborn once again. Aulus made a sound of eagerness as two arms formed, then a head. It was barely stable, but it was corporeal. A figure the deep red shade of blood stepped closer to the scientist, and the eyes in the mass of swirling mist that indicated a face opened. Like two bottomless pits, they stared emptily at the doctor before a maw of black nothingness split the jaw, forming a primitive mouth.

  
    _"Want...."_

  
Aulus blinked in surprise. It had been the first time in months since he had heard the prince's voice, but at the same time it wasn't his voice. It was echoed with a rattling hiss, like dry bones sliding against one another in his throat. Aulus waited, but the red figure didn't speak again.

  
   "What do you want, my Lord?" He asked, wondering just how it was that two empty sockets could stare so deeply into his own soul. He felt a chill run down his spine as that maw stretched and widened, nearly cutting the face area in half.

  _"Beastie..."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that the relationship between Thancred and the WoL won't be romantic, since I don't want to force yet another 'romance' into this fic where it really doesn't need to be. Not that there's much romancing going on anyways. But thanks to everyone for their feedback on the idea!


	3. A Change of Scenery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post. Writer's block and depression makes for a bitchy combo. Hope it was worth the wait anyways. No beta, all mistakes are mine. You get the drill.

Only a day had passed since the night the encampment had been woken up to nightmare-fueled screams, but Thancred could already tell that his friend was itching to make their presence scarce before they outlasted the warm welcome from the clans of the Azim Steppe. There would come a time when lack of a good night of rest would test the patience of even the Mol. So as it was, when the sun was beginning to blush the sky red and pink with the start of a beautiful sunrise, Thancred was helping load their belongings on to the back of one of the overly massive falcons that would carry them to their next destination. It was alarming just how massive the avian creatures were compared to Eorzea, but then again he supposed it was no different than riding on choco-back. It was good that he had no qualms with height, such as Urianger, or else he would have most likely suggested they make the trip on foot. Though the idea of the normally composed Elezen's reaction to flying high in the sky did amuse the Hyur quite a bit as he fastened the last strap into place.

  
   "Oh, Mister Thancred!" An almost musical voice called out. Thancred turned around to see Cirina standing there with a bundle in her hands. She offered him a sweet smile and walked closer. "I would ask a favor of you." She said, though her tone was tentative, giving him the opportunity to refuse should he find it to be too much of a hassle.

  
   "Certainly, it would not bode well upon my conscience to leave such a fair maiden in distress." Thancred said, flashing her his most charming smile. The flirtation was nothing more than second nature now, enjoying the reactions he got when a lady was flattered. For Cirina, her cheeks turned almost as pink as her hair, and the bundle was being pushed into his chest.

  
   "PleasedeliverthistoPrinceHienwithmythanks!" She blurted in one breath, her face flushing a darker color at the amused look the Hyur gave her. Cirina ducked her head and shuffled from one foot to the other. "I-It is just... We have not seen him since Doma was liberated, a-and I remembered that he enjoys sweet breads..." She said, trying to give some kind of excuse. Thancred let the young Au Ra fumble for a bit before chuckling and turning to add her bundle to their own. "I will, but are you sure you would rather I deliver it instead of...?" Thancred paused, looking around curiously. Where was the Warrior? He had been so adamant about getting to Yanxia before it got too hot, but now that it was actually time to go, he was nowhere to be found.

  
Cirina perked up, grateful that the topic was off of her and gestured to the open grass just a little to the southwest of their current location. "I saw him by the ridge earlier. He seemed to be lost in thought." She said, giving Thancred a grateful bow before leaving to tend to her morning chores. Thancred watched her go for a moment before he turned in the indicated direction to collect his friend. The Warrior in question was indeed lost in thought, staring down at a small clearing of grass with a stormy gaze on his face. Thancred stopped beside him, looking from his friend to the grass and then back to the silent statue of his friend once more.

  
   "I don't know what the grass has done to insult you, but you may have to settle your rivalry another time my friend." Thancred said, giving the other a grim smile when the Warrior jumped, as if he had surprised him. It was troubling, usually if there was one person Thancred struggled to sneak up on, it was him. For him to have been startled by the rogue's presence, he must have indeed been in deep thought. "Everything's ready to go, if you are." He commented, gesturing to the awaiting bird. The Warrior nodded silently, once again looking towards the grass with a stare that made even Thancred nervous. What in Eorzea was going on?

  
As the Warrior left to say his goodbyes to Cirina and the rest of the Mol, Thancred cast a thoughtful look at the empty field of grass for a little bit longer. The pale face, and sunken set of eyes that had been locked so firmly to this one spot haunted him. The other wasn't sleeping, and Thancred had to bet that he wasn't eating either. Whatever was happening, Thancred could only hope that it could be solved by a change in location.

  
With their belongings packed away, and the Warrior mounting the falcon for their trip, Thancred gave one last wave to the Xaela tribe that had given them refuge for the last month and a half before climbing on the back of the falcon behind the Warrior. He hesitated for a moment about where to place his hands to hold on, suddenly doubting his comfort with heights when he realized that there were no safety straps to keep them in the saddle. Before he could pose his nervous question though, the bird was taking off with both Scion and Warrior of Light in tow, and while the former may deny the shriek of panic that leaped from unprepared lips, the latter would still find humor in it for days to come.

  
The rush of sudden wind nearly had Thancred toppling back off the tail end of the bird, and as a result he was forced to grab on to the Warrior before him. He could feel the laughter shaking through the male's back, and while Thancred's pride was a little wounded, he was glad that the other was finding a reason to feel joy. The other didn't seem to mind his hands being on his waist either, so Thancred left them there for balance and some security as the falcon's wings carried them higher and higher.

  
Thancred took the time to look around, marveling at the wide plains of the Steppe. The sweet green grass ripe with wildlife, sheltered by both mountainous ranges and deep ravines. It was almost the perfect defensible settlement, he could see why a series of warrior tribes would choose to take up residence here. As their mount glided past the Dawn Throne, several of the Xaela milling about on top raised hands in greeting waves, returned by the Warrior seated before him. Down through Nhaama's Retreat towards the caves leading towards Yanxia, their bird settled down on the hot sands, hopping for a time to adjust to the temperature before they were able to dismount. They'd have to walk the rest of the way, two people would be too much for the falcon to travel the rest of the way.

  
Thancred let the Warrior climb off first before slipping off the saddle. While the view had been spectacular, he was relieved to have his feet on the ground once again. The duo unstrapped their bags from the back of the saddle, and stepped back as the falcon spread its wings and took to the sky once again, probably relieved to be free of the weight. As he adjusted his bag on his shoulder, Thancred looked towards his friend and gestured openly towards the mouth of the cave.

  
   "I have no idea where we are going." He reminded the other, getting a slight smile in return. Thancred relaxed a little and began to follow the Warrior as his friend led the way, the cool air of the cave a nice reprieve from the heat of the desert they had touched down in. Thankfully the way was lit by several torches along the wall, and after nearly an hour of walking, they could see daylight just in the distance. Once they stepped out from the caves, Thancred had to blink several times to clear his vision and let his eyes adjust to the bright sky after the darkness of the tunnel system. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when he had heard that they would be traveling through a place called the Valley of the Fallen Rainbow, but he had to admit that he was not disappointed. He could already see the rumored Prism Lake from where they were standing, wondering if it was some kind of magic that shifted the water's color like that, or if it was some kind of mineral in each water bed. Either way, it was a sight to behold.

  
Before he could so much as comment on the landscape, the Warrior was already leading the way down the hill towards the lake, warning Thancred not to wander off on his own because he might get eaten by a tiger. Thancred wanted to laugh, sure that his friend was just joking, but the serious look he got back sobered him up immediately. Seriously? Tigers? Well, he had fought bears, and bandersnatches, so he didn't think that tigers would be that different. Not that he really wanted to revisit either of those moments in his life. Thancred frowned slightly and unconsciously rubbed at the patch covering his left eye before he dropped his hand and shook himself to chase the thoughts from his mind. He offered a small smile to the Warrior when the other gave him a quizzical look and shook his head, silently telling the other not to ask. It was an unspoken rule between them, that they would never press and instead wait for the other to open up.

  
They skirted around the edge of the lake, their boots slipping every once in a while on the soft bank, and up a steep incline that admittedly left Thancred feeling a little winded. But the Warrior seemed to know where he was going, skirting around wildlife that looked particularly aggressive with ease. They must have reached their destination without Thancred really noticing, because one moment he was following behind his friend, and the next he was walking into said friend. The Warrior looked at him over his shoulder for a moment before gesturing for him to follow again before he suddenly disappeared into a crevasse in the side of the rock face. Thancred quietly questioned how he had missed the entrance when he was usually so vigilant, but followed after without allowing himself too much time to ponder his own skills.

  
They had walked no more than twenty steps when Thancred suddenly felt that they weren't alone. He reached for his weapons, but a hand on his stopped him from drawing his daggers. Thancred gave the Warrior a curious look before peering around them towards the shadows of the caves.

  
   "It seems my skills are still in need of refining." Yugiri's voice echoed in the cave, her tone calm with a touch of fondness as she stepped out of her hiding place. She eyed the Warrior and gave both he and Thancred a serene smile. "Our lookouts spotted you the moment you entered Yanxia. It's good to see you, my friends. Come, my Lord is waiting inside." She said, leading the way into the House of the Fierce with silent steps. Thancred shared in her statement, realizing just how lackluster his own skills had become in the last two months without proper training. The comfort and simple lifestyle of the Mol was pleasant, but they didn't hold up the rigorous training as the other tribes in the Steppe, leading both Thancred and the Warrior to follow their example.

  
Yugiri knocked on the door in a series of short raps and pauses before it swung open. Gesturing for the duo to follow her inside, Thancred noted that several other shinobi had bled from the shadows behind them, possibly lookouts or guards for the entrance. The Warrior seemed unperturbed though, which told Thancred that the other had known they were there. Not much got past him, even riddled with exhaustion and stress. It made Thancred feel even more inadequate than before. While he had let his skills slip, it seemed his friend had not. It did explain why most of the Warrior's mornings started far sooner than his own the last two months though.

  
As they walked into the house of the fierce, Thancred noted the massive hole in the ceiling, the sunlight shining down to flood the open space with natural light. He took a moment to attune to the massive aetheryte crystal in the middle, but after the events following Ul'dah and the desperate effort to travel via the aetherstream that ended up with him in the Dravanian Forelands, he wasn't all that keen to be traveling that way. He'll take the long way around any day. Several of the shinobi and other trainees scattered around all turned and bowed in greeting, a custom that Thancred felt he would never get used to.

  
As they got further in, those trailing after them split off to return to their duties until it was just Yugiri escorting them in. The sound of collective yells, grunts and connecting weapons echoed from the open door. Hien was watching the recruits train, his arms crossed over his chest with a somber look on his face. Though that quickly shifted to a beaming smile when he turned to take notice of the newcomers. "Well if it isn't the Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo himself!" Hien called, distracting several of the training fighters momentarily before he waved for them to go back to practicing. Jogging over to the Warrior and the pale-haired Hyur he had briefly met prior to their rescue mission, Hien looked to Yugiri and nodded his thanks. She nodded in response and gave a respective bow to the three men before leaving to return to her duties.

  
   "It's been some time, friend." Hien began, relaxing his stance from the stoic pose he had been holding before. At ease in the presence of trusted allies. "Tell me, how fare the Steppes?" He asked gesturing for them to follow him to a more quiet place to talk when the sounds of training fighters proved to be too loud to hold a conversation. Thancred remembered the bundle he had been tasked with delivering and awkwardly cleared his throat, catching Hien's surprised look with a subtle tilt of his head. The Doman prince was more the Warrior's friend than his, but he did have a promise to upkeep.

  
   "A certain fair lady by the name of Cirina requested I deliver this." He said, producing the parcel. The Warrior gave him a curious look to which Thancred responded with a small shrug. He didn't know why she had asked him either. Hien took the parcel and unwrapped it, making a pleased sound the moment he recognized the sweet bread rolls.

  
"Excellent! Come with me. A fresh cup of tea and some rest from your journey is no doubt in order. I should like to hear of your adventures since our last meeting, my friend. But I have to ask, what brings you to the House of the Fierce?" Hien said, leading them into his private room. While he was the prince of Doma, there wasn't really any place he could say was more home than the base of the Doman Liberation Front. He wasn't one to live in lavish surroundings, even if they managed to rebuild the palace back to its former, or even future, glory. Perhaps he'll convert the grounds into an orphanage, or a military base as opposed to indulging in rich luxuries.

  
Hien led them into a separate room with a sitting area around a low table. The sleeping quarters were tucked behind a curtain detailed with Doman tapestry, sections of the fabric frayed as if it had been torn from the wall itself to serve as a privacy curtain. Hien took a seat at the low table, settling himself comfortably on one of the cushions before he began to prepare the pot and water to make tea. The noise faded away to nothing as Thancred silently shut the door behind them and joined both the Doman prince and the Warrior of Light at the low set table. He knelt down, casting a curious glance at the prince who seemed content with the act of making tea for his guests. It was silent for several minutes as they waited for the water to boil, but none of them felt inclined to fill it with meaningless chatter.

  
Once each person had a cup set in front of them, Hien set the bundle from Cirina on the table and tore into one of the sweet loaves, not too bothered by formality. It was a dense bread, hearty due to the grain grown and used, but the subtle flavor of honey and lemongrass gave it a lightness that paired well with the green tea. Hien took a sip from his cup after a moment, his eyes taking in the state of the Warrior seated across from him. Thancred sat back, not saying a word as the prince seemed to figure out what was happening on his own. The pale complexion, the way the Warrior picked at the bread more than actually ate it, and the slight aversion to eye contact that he had never once experienced since meeting the male.

  
   "Tell me, my friend. What brings you to our fair shores this time?" Hien said, deciding not to press. Though he wanted to, because he had seen the might of the Warrior before him first hand. The Warrior seemed to relax, taking a small bite of the bread in his hand to try to deflect any concern over his appetite before he detailed his wish to help with the clean up of Doma Castle, as well as the training of recruits for the Liberation Front. While they were no longer under Garlean rule, that did not mean that they should get passive and lenient with their training. Who knows when a retaliation would come to pass. But as the Warrior talked, Hien took note of the way he seemed to unconsciously flick his gaze towards the shadows of the room. The way he eyed the curtain as if expecting someone to jump out from behind it. It was a look he knew too well. Jumping at every shadow, paranoid about turning his back towards an open space. It was the look of someone who was running from something, either his own inner demons... or the ghosts of one's own past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest... I hate this chapter. I hated writing it, I hate the ending. I just hate it. BUT! I promise the next one is going to make up for it, because it's going to be posted in the spirit of Halloween, and it's going to be centered around Zenos and what's happening during all of this. So I hope you look forward to that!


	4. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in a nondescript location... A scientist and his monster...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Blood, gore and mentions of dead bodies. Read at your own risk. All mistakes are mine because I'm really lazy and never have anything beta'd. Happy Halloween my nerds!

Red. Nothing but varying shades of red to swath the world around him. Everything twisted, writhed against itself like a beast in heat, but nothing came of it. Pain unlike anything he's ever felt beat against every fiber of his being. Or at least what was left of it. Everything was stained in red, like someone had bled the world to the last drop around him. He could almost feel it, the way it slipped through his fingers. The hot stain of some mortal life on his skin. He wanted to bask in it, bathe in it.  _Feed on it._

  
The writhing crimson wraith unhinged its jaw from the mauled throat of some poor woman who had been unfortunate enough to wander within its grasp. A wet gurgle slipped from between blood-stained lips as she attempted to scream for help, but her vocal chords had been crushed when the wraith set upon her. A long serpentine tongue, stained ink black, slithered from the depths of the ghastly wide maw and lapped up the blood that stained what would be considered lips as the red wraith let the woman's body slip from its arms to collapse on the dirty alley ground to bleed out slowly. Painfully.

  
   "Really..." A voice chimed up as Aulus mal Asina stepped into the dimly lit alley, his distinctive lavender hair tucked away under the hood of his cloak in order to mitigate drawing as much attention as possible from himself. Not that it was easy traveling with a massive blood red ghost that tended to feed on everything. Though it was beneficial to his research, it was tedious to continually have to clean up after the wraith every time. "Must you make such a mess every time, my Lord?" He asked, his tone weary like a father scolding a toddler who had the habit of not cleaning up his toys after he was done with them. The wraith let out a slow rattling hiss before it moved, wrapping around Aulus and slamming the scientist into the wall of the building nearest to them. The Garlean let out a grunt of pain, but the condescending look on his face remained. He knew that the wraith wouldn't kill him, simply because he yet remained useful. Without him, the wraith would cease to exist. He would never regain a physical body, and he would never get his beloved Beastie back.

  
That didn't mean he was ready to stare the wraith down though, those empty sockets that seemed to be bottomless. They drew you in, made you feel like you were falling forever into a black abyss. As if sensing his fear, the wraith's maw widened with a smile before drawing away. Adjusting his clothing as if he hadn't just come close to being brutally eviscerated by his own creation, Aulus looked to the woman lying dead in the alley. He clicked his tongue, noting her torn throat and lamenting about the loss of yet another potential subject. He wanted to test the effects of the wraith feeding on their aether, but it was rather difficult to do if he insisted on feeding so brutally. While he didn't need to feed on them in such a violent way, Aulus had a sense that he did it simply because it was enjoyable. As if he enjoyed being drenched in blood. Well, given who the wraith was, he really wasn't that surprised.

  
   "We will need to move on from this place soon, if too many dead are discovered, people will start asking questions." He commented idly, though he had a feeling that the wraith didn't care. It was hard to get him to care about anything other than that Warrior. Though it was impressive how strong of a hold the Warrior seemed to have over the wraith, and the man the wraith had been. As if bewitched... It was interesting, and Aulus was dismayed that he hadn't had more opportunity to run experiments on the Warrior when he had the chance. There had simply not been enough time, and he had a feeling that should his experiments get too... intrusive, they would have been ended as swiftly, and possibly viciously, as possible. Again, it was almost unnerving how much influence the Warrior yet still had over Zenos, even in death. Or undeath, if one were to look at it much more literally.

  
With another remorseful sigh at the loss of yet another potential test subject, Aulus walked to the further end of the alley to collect the large black cloak the wraith had shed in his feeding frenzy, carrying it back and lifting it to cover the wraith's red form. While it was progress, a full manifestation of a body was still beyond the others grasp. Though the majority of the torso was intact, any lower than that dissolved into red mist and winding tendrils, eventually fading into nothing where there should be two long legs and a pair of feet. It might have to do with the quality of the wraith's current food source though, it was hard to feed on the aether from mundane people, those who do nothing to train their inner or outer strength. If they were to achieve significant results, they would need more... fertile feeding grounds.

  
As the wraith pulled the large black hood over wispy, blood red hair, it regarded the scientist with empty black eyes. The urge to feed had been quelled, though that quiet hunger was still there. The need for something else, someone else. His Beastie. In a sea of red, his Beastie was blue. Soft, glowing and warm. He wanted to sink his teeth into it, tangle his own crimson stain through that warm light. He wanted to own it, consume it, and let it consume him in return. Slowly taking in a deep breath through a skeletal nose, the wraith's bottomless eyes slipped closed as the memory of that warmth pulsed through him. It was only fleeting touches, those rare moments he could reach into his Beasties dream. He had been growing stronger, but his Beastie had also been growing more resistant since that first night.

  
Again that maw stretched, the serpentine tongue sliding against razor sharp teeth, like needles. Some were jagged, overlapping, but towards the back they grew duller and more flat on top. As if they were shaping to resemble something more human. That sweet pulse of aether at the point of orgasm. His Beastie had been so delicious in that brief moment that it had given him the strength to reach out, to expand past his own boundaries and push himself into the reality of his Beastie. It was as if his Warrior had been calling to him with his pleasured cries, his sweet release. He knew that his Beastie wanted him back, after all, he had kept his little gift. That first night, he had left a figment of himself there in that moment, tucked behind his Warrior's ear. That flower was as much a part of him as the long locks of his hair, or the five long fingers on each of his hands. He wiggled his fingers thoughfully, opening those vacant eyes to look down at the movement. It had taken him nearly a month to recover from that first time though, having nearly scattered himself across all the realms of this world for those brief few minutes he had connected with his Beastie. That was why he was taking his time now, biding it to amass more power. Regain his body, and then he would reclaim what was rightfully his.

  
Though his precautions didn't stop him from entering his Beastie's dreams. They were so sweet, like nectar on his tongue, and when they turned ripe with fear and panic at his presence... A shiver rippled down the wraith's spine. Like bitter acid in his mouth, but it made him feel so alive when his Beastie felt him there. But he never sealed himself away from him, or perhaps he was so naive that he was keeping the flower for other reasons. He preferred to think of it as his Beastie calling to him, wanting him to come for him. His Warrior had proven he was even willing to kill him to suit his needs, yet clung to the reminder of his very existence in the world all the same. They really were meant for each other, the perfect pair. Ah, he wanted to taste him again, to feel his skin against his own. To bring him pleasure with his own two hands once again. His Beastie will fight against it no doubt. At first. But this time, there would be no knight in shining armor. No pirates or little rats scampering about his ship. No, next time he would do well away with those who would dare interfere when he comes to take his Beastie back.

  
   "My Lord." Aulus spoke up, breaking the wraith out of his thoughts. Again those sunken, hollow eyes turned towards the scientist. The man had already dragged the body of the female away from the open, though there was not much they could do about the trail of blood that followed the path of her corpse to be hidden in some trash and broken items. In the garbage, where she belonged. Where they all belonged, except for his Beastie.

  
That same rattling hiss rippled free of the unsettlingly large mouth, like dry leaves over the cold ground as the wraith assented to them leaving this place. It was uncertain whether it was indeed intended to be speech, but that hiss seemed to be the majority of the wraith's communication. Aulus knew that the other did possess the ability to form words, which could only leave him with the assumption that the wraith just didn't want to talk to him. With the woman's corpse concealed as neatly as possible, the scientist and his creation slipped away from the scene of the crime and disappeared into the shadows of the alley, as if the darkness itself had swallowed them whole.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

  
_Meanwhile in a cave deep within the wilds of the Dravanian Hinterlands..._

  
Matoya bolted upright in her bed, grizzled grey hair wild and falling out of the bun she had tied it up in when she initially went to sleep. The old crone shook herself and wiped the sweat from her brow before she threw the blankets off her legs and rolled out of bed. Her old heart was beating far too fast to be healthy, but she couldn't be bothered to worry over her health for now. She couldn't shake the memory of those void-like eyes, the gaping maw and waves of blood crashing down upon a figure familiar to her. She had witnessed the Warrior of Light drowning while an eerie specter laughed from above, as if it enjoyed watching the futile struggle. She had to know what it meant. After well over a year since she had met the Warrior, she had not once had a dream about him or any of his companions.

  
One of her poroggo servants hopped over to her with her dressing gown in his hands. He watched his mistress silently, hopping along behind her out of worry as the old crone made her way through the dim cave towards her study. "What is it mistress? What troubles you?" The magically imbued creature croaked, helping push her chair in when the old woman sat down at the table holding several mystical artifacts, including an earthen bowl and a crystal ball with a large crack trialing up one side of it like lightning.

  
She picked up the bowl and motioned for the poroggo to take it and fill it with water, which he did so as carefully as possible, though hopping back over to her with it did result in some of it spilling over onto the floor. While she would normally scold them and threaten to turn them back into normal frogs for making a mess, it seemed that whatever was distressing his mistress so much was also distracting her from the spilled water. A blessing as much as it was a concern.

  
Once she had the clean water, she began to prepare the spell to peer more accurately into the future, the Warrior of Light her sole focus. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something big coming, and whatever it was, it was after the eikon-slayer. As the spell began to take hold, and the potion began to boil despite the absence of flame, Matoya inhaled the resulting steam deeply and closed her tired old eyes. Her poroggo aide prepared a scroll and quill in order to take note of every word she said while in her trance, for when she awoke from it she wouldn't remember a word. It took several long moments of deep breathing before Matoya suddenly gasped, her hunched back straightening as she nearly fell back out of her chair. Her eyes rolled back into her head, showing the blood shot whites of them as a voice that sounded not wholly her own all but growled from her throat.

  
_"Beware the shade drenched in red, who's hunger will not be sated. For Death itself cannot prevent a twining of paths once fated. To tame the monster and save the beast a sacrifice must be made. When darkness weeps and light bleeds red so too will the nightmare fade."_

  
Matoya sat forward again with a gasp, her head pounding as the haze faded from her mind. She motioned for the parchment, snatching it from the poroggo to read the words she had uttered. A frown settled between her brows, furthering the wrinkles on her old face. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and her ears were ringing with the aftereffects of the spell. She quickly concealed the shaking in her fingers as she leveraged herself up from her chair, her back aching as she moved towards her writing desk.

  
   "Prepare to send a letter to the Leveilleur boy." She said, her voice raw as if she had been screaming. Whatever happened during those times she entered a trance to give a prophecy took a toll on her vocal chords later. "And clean up that water, or I'll turn you into an insect and feed you to the others." She snapped, hearing her aide hop off in a panic to get a carrier for her letter. Matoya took a moment to settle herself in the silence that followed, her hands still shaking as she read the prophecy over and over. A shade drenched in red and sacrifices... She couldn't help but remember her dream and the waves of red blood that drowned the Warrior of Light and shiver. Whatever was coming, it was coming soon. She could only hope her letter got there in time to warn them all.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

  
Zenos opened his eyes slowly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a content sigh. Everything felt warm and soft, like a gentle glow encapsulated everything. He's found himself invading his Beastie's dreams more and more, twisting them to nightmares oh so easily. He looked down at himself, noting the distinctive peachy tone in his skin. It always started like this, as if he were the man he had been before. But as the dreams became nightmares, that warm tone of his skin peeled away to reveal the blood red stain underneath. Limbs rotted off, his eyes sunk back into his head and his jaw tore itself apart until his image mirrored that of the real world. As if his Beastie could see what he had truly become.

  
But that wasn't happening yet, the warm glow seemed to remain despite his presence in it. It confused Zenos as well as intrigued him, coaxing him to find the source of the dream itself. Zenos walked across a field, the grass dewy under his feet. It was odd to move about in dreams like this, because he could both feel the dew on his bare feet, the grass brushing against his legs as he moved, it also felt like nothing at all. Just a passing, subconscious sensation. The field became sand as he stepped out onto a beach. Zenos frowned at the feeling of hot sand under his soles, his toes wiggling against the grains. He had never been to a beach, he had always considered them hot and bothersome, and he wondered why it was that his Beastie was dreaming about such a place.

  
As if a siren were singing to him, Zenos felt his eyes draw towards a figure sitting on the docks, long legs kicking at the water below. Even from behind, Zenos knew his Beastie. Though his Warrior was not alone in this dream world, as he usually was. This time, he was joined by a Hyur with tanned skin and very pale hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Zenos immediately felt heated rage ripple through him. The little insect that took his Beastie away from him. The so-called rescuer. Zenos watched as something the little insect said made his Beastie laugh, and he felt something inside him snap. An expression his Beastie had never shown him before was being given to this... this... lesser creature! He wanted to rip,  _tear_... How dare that little maggot invade  _his_  Beastie's dreams. How dare  _his_  Beastie dream of someone other than him!

  
Zenos felt his lip curl, a snarl tearing free as he stalked towards them. The maggot seemed to sense that he was coming though and turned to look over his shoulder. Just as Zenos was about to reach out and tear the little worm's head from his shoulders, his Beastie turned as well and met his eyes. Those eyes. So clear and pure and looking at him. Zenos stumbled slightly, coming to a stop as those eyes watched him, the fear palatable. As much as Zenos reveled in the Warrior's fear and pain in the past, the memory of that smile, that laugh... He wanted that too. All of his Beastie's expressions. He needed them.

  
   "No...." Zenos growled, watching as his Beastie got to his feet on the dock and tried to step away from him. " _No._ " He growled harder, stalking towards what was his. His Beastie suddenly stepped back with the intention of running from him and disappeared as he slipped off the dock and fell into the water below. " _N̶̛O̶̶̵̡͜!̡̕_ ” Zenos snarled, jumping in after. Almost the instant he dove into the water, the beach itself fell away. The Hyur who had made his Beastie laugh vanished into nothingness, and the water bled from crystal blue to a thick and opaque crimson. Zenos could feel the water pulling at him, stripping away his flesh, tearing at his limbs until pieces fell away. But he didn’t feel like he was drowning, in fact it felt like he didn’t need to breathe at all. As if the blood were not clogging his nose and mouth, but simply passing through him as if he weren’t really there.

 

Gnarled red fingers reached, brushing against warm skin. So warm, soft and  _his_. Pulling his Beastie towards him, the red wraith wrapped tight around the struggling Warrior and pressed close to that intoxicatingly warm body.

  
   “ _Beastie...._ ” The wraith hissed, fingers trapping a jaw set defiantly in an effort not to scream. The blood was thick, but the wraith could see oh so clearly. Beautiful, like an animal trying to free itself from a hunter’s trap. Zenos slid his fingers along that jaw with slow deliberation, wondering what would happened if his Beastie were to drown in his dreams...

  
   “ _Look at me..._ ” The wraith coaxed, trying to turn his Beastie to face him. His Warrior resisted, defiant to the end. No, he wanted his Beastie to look at him, the way he looked at that little insect on the beach. All of this Warrior’s expressions were his,  _his_!

  
_“Look. At. Me._ ” The wraith hissed again, and once more he was defied. Rage swirled like black smoke through him, his throat squeezing as vacant, hollow eyes stared deep into his prey’s soul. Clenching razor sharp teeth for a moment, that massive maw split open, an eerie shriek echoing up from within. Like a thousand screaming souls.

  
   “ _L̛̕͏O͢O͘҉K͜͡҉ ͜͟͡Ą͞T ̵͘M͠E̛͜͜͏!̧͝_ ” He screamed, the blood rushing into his mouth, flooding his throat and his lungs. It poured into his nose until it bled out his ears, and then everything went black.

  
Everything came back in a rush. Consciousness, pain and rage. Hollow eyes opened, empty black voids staring at nothing. But that darkness seemed to bleed out from those hollow shells. Like black ink running down a page of parchment, tears as dark as the eyes they fell from spilled down red cheeks. Disfigured red fingers tangled into equally red hair, yanking at the strands. Pushed away, denied. His Beastie.  _His_. He wanted.  _Needed_. It was too much, everything was too much. The wraith felt like he was drowning all over again, the red pooling into every space within him. Again that maw opened, jagged and raw and let loose the most bloodcurdling, anguished scream into the night.


	5. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you work yourself to the bone, don't be surprised when something starts to crumble away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. No beta, blah blah blah. I was up all night writing this thing because it turned into the energizer bunny and kept going... and going... and going. It's officially the longest chapter in this fic so far. Hopefully it deserves to be so!

They had fallen into a bit of a routine since arriving at the House of the Fierce. Despite Hien's refusal to put them to work in the time they were visiting, the Doman prince eventually gave way and requested the aid clearing some of the debris from the castle ruins. They still planned on having an excavation team clear it out entirely of... Those left behind. It was clear that the man still hadn't moved on from Gosestu's sacrifice, and even if the giant was no longer part of the world around them, Hien still wanted to give him the noble samurai's burial he deserved. While it was hard work, it was good to have something to do with their hands to keep them busy, keep them distracted. Once again the Warrior had woken screaming some nights ago, babbling about a haunting red face in a sea of blood. Thancred hadn't known what to do aside from simply sit there and let his friend scream into his back in order to smother the noise in the effort not to wake anyone else. Though Thancred had a feeling that they hadn't been quite so successful, as the Lady Yugiri seemed all the more watchful now. But then again, she had also been on that airship. While she hadn't seen the entirety as Thancred had, he had a feeling that she knew enough to figure out what was going on.

  
That may have been why she had asked them both to help with some training drills for her shinobi, wanting to work on their tracking without being noticed. Quiet work that required you to focus on your surroundings, instead of what was in your head. Another distraction tactic. While Thancred knew they were just trying to help, he couldn't help but feel irritated at how swiftly the Warrior seemed to throw himself into each and every task laid out to him. It took more prompting than Thancred deemed necessary to get the other to eat, and sleep was almost impossible these days. The first night, Thancred had tried to give the Warrior some space, wanting him to have some privacy to himself since they had been almost consistently around each other for the past several months. But it hadn't had helped, for he had woken up to having a very silent, but very pale, friend falling asleep in the chair nearest to Thancred's bed because he had been unsure whether or not it would be welcome for him to climb in with him. It was endearing, but also troubling. Thancred didn't know how much longer he could do this for. He had hoped that time would allow the other to regain his confidence, rebuild his strength to put the hellish events behind him, but it only seemed to be getting worse. From what little he could piece together, it was like that mad man was haunting the Warrior of Light from the veils of Death itself, keeping his mind captive despite no longer being a part of this world.

  
Thancred didn't want to admit it, but he was beginning to think that it was time he consulted one of the others for aid. Giving the Warrior time and space wasn't working, if anything it was making the situation worse. The pale lines of his face, the sunken shadows under his eyes... The other looked skeletal. It was as if he hadn't slept since that night nearly a week ago when he had been screaming about a mishappen red face. Thancred had seen a number of horrifying things, but nothing of the sort that would ever have someone such as the Warrior of Light quaking the way these dreams seem to.

  
Thancred took a seat on the crumbling wall ledge surrounding the ruins of Doma Palace, looking at the once fine architecture with a bit of remorse. He would have liked to see it in its full glory, and from the stories Hien would tell, it had been quite magnificent. Thancred liked the Doman prince, he had an air around him that made him easy to get along with, but when it came to taking charge, it made you want to listen and follow his words. It was pretty impressive, and Thancred could think of a number of leaders back in Eorzea who could do with following his example just a bit. Wiping the sweat from his brow and running a hand through damp hair, Thancred took a moment to breathe and relax with the cool air providing a much needed breeze before he realized that the person working beside him hadn't taken the hint to take a break as well.

  
Thancred looked down at the Warrior, who was still moving rocks away with practiced movements. His expression shifted to one of confusion and slight irritation. Again the other was working himself to the bone. If he kept this up, he was more likely to collapse into bed unconscious instead of sleeping tonight. Unless... Was that what he was planning? To work himself into a state of exhaustion that his body had no choice but to shut down to recover? Did he want to avoid dreaming that badly?

  
   "Enough." Thancred said firmly, knowing he immediately caught the male's attention by the way his spine straightened. Thancred gave the Warrior a flat look, clearly not in the mood for excuses or a change in topic as his friend turned around to face him fully. "Do you think me so blind as to not realize what you're doing, my friend?" He asked, his expression shifting to one of quiet concern. He watched as the Warrior dusted off his hands and shifted his position before idly tilting his head as if asking the rogue what he meant by that. Thancred felt his jaw tick with frustration, more so at his own inability to fix whatever was ailing his friend than the other's unwillingness to impart what was truly wrong to him.

  
   "You rarely sleep, you hardly eat and even now you're working yourself to the bone. All to achieve what, exactly? To bring yourself to an early grave?" Thancred snapped, more harshly than he intended and almost immediately he regretted it when he saw the startled look in the Warrior's eyes. Honest eyes, ones which saw beast and man with no judgement or bigotry. But he didn't apologize or try to retract his words, because that would require lying about how deeply troubled he was for the others actions. "Months have passed, and yet you are even more tormented now than you were then. As if your own mind were unable to let go of what that whoreson did!" Thancred said, curling his hands into fists on his knees in frustration. He felt so useless, and yet he knew that he should not be pressing where he was. He had vowed to give the other space and time, to allow him to reach out should he choose to speak of it with someone. But even now... Sleepless nights shared between them. Consistently nagging to remind the other to eat when he seemed lost in his own mind...

  
   "Answer me this... Are you... Punishing yourself? Subconsciously?" He asked, knowing he had stepped on a landmine the moment the Warrior's eyes narrowed. It was a look reserved only for those on the opposite end of the battlefield. A cold and flat look followed by a firm shake of a head. Thancred felt his stomach twist, remembering how he had done that very thing after Lahabrea had taken control of his body. In his own weakness, he was responsible for many evils committed against the people of Eorzea, the Warrior of Light included.

  
   "Do you believe that it was somehow your fault? That if you had been just a little stronger, if you had waited for reinforcements...?" Thancred continued tentatively, his gaze searching the Warrior's. Almost immediately he felt his bones chill as that flat look turned downright icy, honest eyes flooding with hurt and blame as they stared into what Thancred felt was his very soul. No, the Warrior didn't blame himself for what happened. But he did blame someone... But who?

  
   "Do you blame us for not being there when you needed us?" He asked, his voice dropping in volume as if he were afraid to ask it aloud, his gaze dropping to the cracked cobblestone walkway leading to the ruins of a once great palace. Silence greeted him, as it usually did. Sometimes the other's near constant silence was a blessing, for he never said more than was necessary... But now it just felt like a nail in the proverbial coffin. Did the other blame the Scions and the Resistance for not being there when he needed them most? Had they failed him in allowing him to rush ahead to take on Zenos alone? Were they truly to blame?

  
A hand on his shoulder had him raising his head in surprise. Again those eyes were focused on him, but they lost that frosty glare from before. Thancred watched as the Warrior once again shook his head. No? No to what? No, he didn't blame them for not being there for him? Thancred scowled, his frustration rising again as he pushed that hand off his shoulder in irritation. The Warrior snapped his hand back as if Thancred had threatened to break his fingers, instantly keeping his hands down by his sides out of harm's way, still skittish about being touched. Except by Thancred. Or, at least until now. Thancred felt like he wanted to be sick, the mere idea of his friend recoiling away from him as well wounding his pride. If he were thinking more rationally, he would take a breath and calm down, but he wasn't. He was angry, at himself and at the Warrior for being so reluctant to open up to him. But mostly he was angry at Zenos, the monster that had been the root cause of all of this. But Zenos was dead, and he had nowhere else to direct that anger and frustration.

  
   "So be it. Perhaps the best thing for both of us would be some space." Thancred said coolly, internalizing his emotions to avoid lashing out at the one person who probably knew him better than most. He hopped off the crumbling wall that had been his bench and turned sharply towards the House of the Fierce. There were several others still working, but none had taken notice of their conversation, nor paid him any mind as he walked away from the excavation site. Refusing to look back, and apologize for his outburst, Thancred missed the stricken gaze that followed him for several yalms until he disappeared into the cliff face itself. Perhaps it was because they had spent every day together since they had rescued the Warrior from the Garlean's clutches, but Thancred had hoped that meant some level of trust between them. Yet, the other still pulls away, he still keeps a wall between them as friends, as if he weren't trustworthy or as if he would call judgement upon the Warrior for feeling a certain way.

  
Several nights ago the other had been babbling about a red specter with a misshapen face in a sea of blood. The only thing that came to mind was the blood that had stained Zenos Yae Galvus' face as the Warrior struck him down, spilling from between his lips as if it were his life force itself. Was the Warrior of Light still trapped by the memory of taking that monster's life? Or was his subconscious conjuring bloody faces and ghosts to remind himself of a momentary weakness that forever changed the course of his life? Thancred ran a hand through his hair, feeling them tangle slightly where the strands gathered into a low ponytail. The sigh that slipped out of him as he pulled the leather tie from his hair was long-winded and weary, his fingers brushing through the tangled mess to try to sort it out before he could tie his hair back out of the way.

  
   "A handsome face such as yours does not suit to be so long." A voice said, slightly amused as Thancred nearly jumped and looked up in surprise. Hien leaned against the entry of the House of the Fierce, looking at him curiously. Thancred let out another sigh, though it was much shorter and carried a humbled air.

  
   "The Lady Yugiri would be most impressed with your uncanny ability to sneak up upon the unaware." Thancred said, approaching the Doman who only slightly moved aside to allow the rogue to slip through. Thancred idly wondered if it was intentional to have them pass nearly chest to chest through the narrow entrance. As if he were sizing him up. A warning perhaps? Was there something else at play here that he was still so ignorant of? Did the prince perceive him as a threat? Or was it the recent discovery that the Warrior of Light did not trust him as completely as he had hoped that had shaken the confidence in the trust of others around him?

  
   "Only those who are so unaware that they missed the initial greeting offered to them. That is to say I am quite capable of being quiet when the situation best calls for it." Hien said, tilting his head slightly. Ever the capable leader, yet Thancred found that sometimes the Doman prince reminded him of a dog when he tilted his head just so. Allowing that small amusement to clear a portion of his otherwise stormy thoughts, Thancred felt the corners of his lips tug into a weak smile. One that was returned as Hien pushed away from the doorway, his shoulder brushing Thancred's almost casually.

  
   "Would you care to join me for some tea? It's good for the body, and the mind." Hien offered, noting the tension around the rogue's mouth and exposed eye. He could almost hear Gosetsu's voice in his mind, telling him the same words. The giant was always impartial to sharing woes and tales over a cup of hot tea. Well, preferably alcohol, but it was much too early in the day for that. Well, at least to Hien it was.

  
Thancred seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking over his shoulder as if he had forgotten something before he shook himself and nodded. Hien nodded in response and led the way towards his private quarters, both men freezing when they heard panicked shouting from outside. They looked at each other before bolting for the doorway that they had just come through, hands ready on their weapons to fend off the impending threat.

  
They were not expecting to find the Warrior of Light being carried in between two workers from the excavation team, his face pale and slick with sweat. Thancred felt his stomach drop like lead as he rushed over to relieve one of the men of his half of the Warrior's weight.

  
   "What happened?" Hien barked out sharply, the easy and friendly air from before gone to be replaced by the authoritative aura that everyone respected. He went to take the other arm and support the unconscious man, giving both workers the chance to rest after carrying the Warrior's dead weight inside. Both he and Thancred carefully set the Warrior down, a pillow being brought from one of the recruit's rooms for his head. Hien rested his hand to the back of the male's cool and sweaty brow, his other hand moving to find his pulse. While he wasn't classically trained, he had learned much from living with the Xaela tribes for as long as he did. He knew the basics, and could tend to a battle injury in the field, but aside from that he was at a loss.

  
   "Somebody send for a chirurgeon." Hien ordered, looking up at the workers who had brought the Warrior in. "Tell me what happened, now." He demanded.

  
The workers looked between themselves, both tired and concerned over the unconscious man they had brought in. "Well, we was workin' like usual, and this one's all fired up about something. Like he was tryin' to exorcise somethin' from the rocks. Tossin' them around, pulling double his weight... And suddenly he just keels over. Out, stone cold. Like a puppet or some'at that's had its strings snipped." The man said, miming the cutting of said strings with his fingers.

  
Thancred felt his throat close up as guilt rose in his chest. He should have just swallowed his pride and continued on as they had. If he hadn't walked off, he could have convinced the other to slow down. To rest. Thancred stopped, a frown appearing on his face. Is this not what he had just been inquiring about in the Warrior's case? He was finding blame in his own inaction. Regretting the choices he had made because he felt they were the wrong ones. If he had done this, if he hadn't done that... He was such a contradiction.

  
   "We need to move him." Thancred offered, forcing his tone to stay level. On task. Focus on the now, and not the if-only. Hien nodded his consent to the suggestion and together they managed to dead lift the unconscious man between them and carry him to the room he had claimed as his own when they arrived.

  
With a little more fuss and struggle than either cared to admit to, they managed to get the Warrior settled onto the bed just in time for Yugiri to show up escorting the chirurgeon from Namai. Hien looked at the old man, remembering belatedly to bow in greeting to the elder before moving out of the way to allow the physician to examine the Warrior. It was barely minutes before both men were being ejected from the room due to Thancred's increased pacing and Hien's hovering. Yugiri had remained, as her presence hadn't been deemed disruptive in any way, leaving both Thancred and Hien anxiously awaiting news of their friend's well being in the hallway.

  
Thancred resumed his pacing in the corridor, measuring his paces from one wall to the other and back again. Hien was a little more composed, but not by much. The Doman was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the tanned man pace back and forth with increasing speed. After seeing the might the Warrior displayed during the Nadaam, it was a frightful thing to see him so... Vulnerable.

  
The door opened, and the physician stepped out, his medical bag settling over his shoulder. Thancred stopped pacing almost fast enough to unbalance himself, his gaze worried as he turned to give the chirurgeon his full attention. "Well?" He blurted, getting a look from the old man that was both exasperated and understanding.

  
   "Simply put, physical exhaustion couple with dehydration and a lack of nutritious sustenance. When was the last time the lad slept?" He asked, looking to Hien who in turn looked to Thancred. The Hyur shook his head, indicating that he didn't know. Several days, if he had to guess. Ever since he had that nightmare about the red shade with the monstrous face. The physician nodded, looking thoughtful.

  
   "Well, the only thing I can prescribe to him at this time is sleep, and lots of it. If he wakes up, make sure he eats and drinks something, but rest is key." The man instructed, looking over his shoulder when Yugiri slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her. Thancred made a motion to step forward, intending to go wait by the Warrior's bedside until he woke up, but thought better of it at the last moment. He didn't have the right, because it was his fault that the other had gotten to that point. He should have stopped him from overworking himself, or he should have done more to ensure the other slept soundly at night. He didn't know what more he could have done, but that didn't mean it excused him for doing nothing, right?

  
A hand on his shoulder for the second time that day jerked him from his thoughts. He looked towards Hien in surprise, the other's contemplative expression making him feel as if his inner most thoughts were written upon his face for all to see. Relaxing with a slow breath out, he quietly thanked the physician and allowed Hien to tug him away down the corridor towards the prince's own quarters.

  
He barely registered that they had reached them until he was being pushed down to seat himself on a plush cushion and a cup of something that definitely wasn't tea was being pushed into his hand. The prince took a seat across from him, setting the bottle down in the center of the table before he lifted his own cup in toast. "It may not be tea, but I believe it'll do its part to ease the body and mind. Whether it's an appropriate time of day or not." He said, waiting for Thancred to lift his own cup to his lips before he drank from his own. It wouldn't do to be the only one drinking, and he had a feeling that the other needed an excuse not to be in his own head at the moment.

  
Several drinks later had Thancred all but passed out, sprawled across the table as if it were a comfortable bed. Hien watched the man with amusement, silently moving the bottle of alcohol out of his reach a little at a time just for the sole purpose of watching him fumble for it. The man hadn't said much until the third or fourth where he finally opened up to the Doman about why he seemed so melancholy. Hien didn't fully understand the story, only what he had witnessed on his own and from what he could surmise from Thancred's slurred speech. He set his own empty cup aside, watching the Hyur's elbow slip off the edge of the table and nearly topple him sideways.

  
   "Are all Eorzean's this susceptible to Hingashi drink, or is it simply just you?" He asked idly as he got to his feet. He swayed ever so slightly once he was upright, and decided against trying to coax the drunk man into a more comfortable sleeping arrangement than face down on a low table. Instead, he drew the embroidered blanket from the foot of his bed and draped it around the mumbling rogue's shoulders. Hien watched him for a moment, thinking about all he had heard. There was a lot of self-blame happening, something he had experienced himself. But he had moved past that, needing to look to the future for the betterment of his people. He couldn't blame himself for mistakes that were made, only learn from them to ensure they were not repeated by those he influenced.

  
A soft knock at the door preceded Yugiri's presence. She looked from Hien to Thancred, refraining from making a comment on the fact that they were drinking during the day. Drinking enough to render at least one of them unconscious at that. Hearing her Lord clear his throat, she looked towards him again.

  
   "I've escorted the physician back to Namai." She informed the prince, once again looking towards Thancred. Hien crossed his arms, feeling a little defensive of the rogue for drinking so much during the day, but again she made no comment. She relaxed her stance and looked towards Hien with a small smile of understanding. "Is there anything else you require of me, my Lord?" She asked, though she was fully intending on taking over the rest of Hien's duties for the day. It wouldn't do to have the leader of the Doman Liberation Front wandering around intoxicated after all.

  
Hien offered Yugiri a relieved smile in return, glad to know that he could rely on her for anything. "Nothing. You may resume your duties. Thank you, Yugiri." He said, his tone dropping to a friendly and affectionate one when he said her name. She bowed and slipped out the same way she came in silently. Hien had no doubt that she would also station a guard at the Khagan's quarters to alert them should he wake, so the Doman could allow himself to relax with that knowledge.

  
The slide of fabric and the thump of something falling over had him looking over to where he had left Thancred. The other had slipped off the table and had fallen flat onto his side, the sudden change in perspective waking him enough to realize that he wasn't in his own room, and the floor was cold and uncomfortable. Hien stifled a snort and approached the Hyur, crouching down beside him with an amused smile. Thancred blinked blearily up at him before grumbling about the floor, and something about being colder than a yeti's bollocks. Hien had no idea what a yeti was, but he figured while the other was conscious it would serve him better to get him into a bed to sleep off the worst of it. So with very little aid and assistance from Thancred himself, Hien managed to get one of the rogue's arms around his shoulders and a supporting arm around his waist before he moved towards the bed. With a grunt of effort, he all but dropped Thancred onto the mattress and chuckled when the other almost immediately found the blankets and began to burrow under them.

  
Just as he was about to leave Thancred to his own devices and sleep off the majority of the alcohol he had consumed, a tanned hand reached out and yanked firmly, pulling the prince backwards into his own bed with a yelp of surprise that he would vehemently deny later should anyone ask. As if the male were half octopus, Thancred wound himself around the Doman and pressed his face against Hien's neck. Hien felt the warm press of the others body against his side, and immediately tried to pull away only to stop by the pleading whimper from the drunken man beside him.

  
   "This is really not... I mean... We don't really know each other that well... While I'm flattered...." Hien stumbled, trying to think up multiple excuses in order to pull away instead of just doing so in the first place.

  
Thancred blinked at him for a silent moment before he pushed his head down and pressed his forehead against Hien's shoulder. "Can't sleep alone anymore..." The Hyur breathed, his words slurring slightly. He had gotten so accustomed to having the Warrior of Light by his side during the evening that even now he felt like something was missing or wrong if he was in bed alone. Hien slowly stopped fidgeting to escape and let a small sigh of resignation escape as Thancred needlessly curled closer, accepting his fate. It wasn't that the other was being inappropriate... Well, maybe just a little... However, Hien wasn't exactly the most experienced man in the art of... Skinship. But as it was, his bed was comfortable and he was rather warm. A nap wouldn't be the worst plan in the world, and should Thancred wake up to a world of shame and mortification, then Hien would have no problem in keeping this little lapse in judgement a secret.

  
It felt no more than mere minutes that he had closed his eyes before the door of his room was being shoved open, a very hurried knock coupling with the bang of the wood against the stone wall had both Hien and Thancred bolting upright. The headache was instantaneous, though Hien didn't doubt that his bed-mate was having the worst of it given the broken groan of pain the male let out. He didn't think Thancred quite realized the precarious situation they were in, but one look at the intruder immediately chased all thoughts of embarrassment and decorum form his mind. Yugiri looked frantic, her face pale as she stood in the open doorway. She was breathing hard, as if she had run full sprint through the House of the Fierce. Ignoring the throbbing headache as a result of day drinking, Hien looked towards the chronometer on the wall and noted that it was the middle of the night. Just how many hours had been wasted in a drunken stupor?

  
   "Yugiri? What's the matter?" Hien asked, slipping out of his bed to approach his lead shinobi. Yugiri looked between Hien and Thancred, the latter finally coming to terms with consciousness and realizing that something was very wrong.

  
   "My Lord, it's the Warrior of Light... He's... He's _gone_." Yugiri stated in a rush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who sent me messages and responses when some shit-swiveling dick-weasel got me down about this story and my own writing abilities. You have no idea how much I appreciated every single one of them, and how special you nerdlings are to me.


	6. Establishing Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We visit the WoL and the events leading up to his disappearance from the House of the Fierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Isse for being my beta reader this time, even though you were leaving for work so soon! I really appreciate it! ALSO! I changed the last paragraph of Ch 5, so if you want the full effect of this chapter I would recommend going back and reading the last little bit of the previous one.

He didn't know when he first sensed that something was wrong. Perhaps it was the way the silence seemed almost too heavy, like everything living was cowering out of fear for whatever lurked beyond the darkness. The Warrior didn't know if his eyes were open or closed, just that there was nothing around him. Black and empty, the void seemed to go on forever while at the same time increasingly closing in. His body felt heavy and wouldn't move no matter how hard he tried to put one foot in front of the other. At least he believed he was trying to do so, when he looked down he couldn't see his own two feet below him. He couldn't even see his hands in front of his face when he finally managed to lift the weight of them up to where he would assume his eyes would be. It was as if the void had consumed not only the sound of the world, but also the light of everything around him.

  
The first thought that crossed his mind was that this was what was on the other side. Had he experienced some kind of fatal accident? He remembered dirt smudging his hands, the feeling of cool and slightly damp rocks in his grasp. No, not rocks. Rubble. Doma Castle, they were clearing the rubble away. Why? Ah, he couldn't remember. Everything felt fuzzy, but at the same time his mind was sharp and clear. Why couldn't he remember what had happened after that? He could hear a familiar voice saying his name, concern turning frustrated and cool. The Warrior flinched, wondering why he felt the need to recoil from the frustration and anger in that voice. It wasn't out of hostility, as far as he could tell. But something in him wanted to curl up and hide away in this dark and empty space. It was quiet here, and dark. Calm. But was it calm? Or was it merely what being in the eye of a storm was like? That eerie calm before all hell broke loose?

  
It was fragmented, the small little snippets he could call to mind. Thancred, his lips pursed and his gaze intense. He remembered... arguing, but not about why. Then everything just faded out, like someone had snuffed out a candle. Just the sensation of his body feeling so heavy, and he eventually lost the battle between gravity and his will to remain upright. He must have passed out then, for he felt if he had truly died then there wouldn't just be nothing. But he didn't think he was sleeping, and even if he was then why hadn't he woken up yet? Surely if one were aware that it was a dream, then they could wake up from said dream?

  
The feeling of being watched made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his eyes trying to peer through the void around him to try to spot just who was lurking in the darkness. There was nothing, no light or sound that could indicate that he wasn't alone. Just nothing. But that feeling of being watched remained. The feeling of being hunted... Memories of past nightmares came to mind, a twisted face of red, a mouth far too large that looked like it could swallow worlds... His throat tightened, and his lungs hitched as oxygen suddenly seemed to elude him. Gasping silently, the Warrior clawed at his neck, trying to drag air into his lungs. Breathe, he needed to breathe! It was all in his head, there was nothing out there. He was just imagining things, having nightmares of a man who was long since dead.

  
He felt his legs shake, giving out from under him and dropping him to his knees. He wasn't even sure if what he hit was floor, or just more of that empty space. Buckling forward, the Warrior painfully dragged air into his lungs, gasping and panting as he tried to convince himself that he was fine. That everything was okay. It was all just a dream, it was all in his head. He was just imagining these things, none of it was real. He curled his hands into fists, pressing them into the dark surface under him, holding him aloft in this endless nothing. One breath, two. In and out. Again. Everything was shaking, or was it just him? A tremble rippling through his body as he tried to focus, his lips moving in a silent mantra that this wasn't real, that it was all just in his head.

  
   " _Oh Beastie..._ " An eerily familiar voice whispered, the sudden sound in an otherwise silent world had him bolting upright, eyes wide as lips parted in a panicked shout. The Warrior scrambled to his feet despite his body's protest. A reminder of how easy it would be to just stop moving, to give up... No, he couldn't. He knew it wasn't just a dream. He knew that he wasn't crazy! He had to prove it, he just had to!

  
He could almost feel those hands on his body, long fingers sliding along his arms and up across his chest. A hand came to rest over his heart where it was thundering loudly, even to his own ears. Pounding away like a drum in the silence. A soft chuckle against his ear, the brush of lips against his jaw...

  
   “ _Quite difficult to turn a dream into a nightmare, when there isn’t anything at all to begin with..._ ” That voice taunted, sounding impossibly close before the sensations left his body. He felt cold in their wake, as if when those hands pulled away they drew all the warmth from his person. A shiver rippled through him, and a knot formed in his stomach. Whirling around, he tried to force his eyes to see something, anything. Nothing. Still nothing in this empty world. Nothing but his own imagination, and the ghosts that imagination conjured. Thancred’s words came back to him then, asking him if he was punishing himself for what happened? Was this all his own subconscious, creating a world of nothing and trapping him alone with the memory of his worst nightmare?

  
But what was his worst nightmare exactly? The man himself? The memory of being helpless against him? The idea of being trapped all over again? The Warrior threaded his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands. He needed to wake up. This was just a dream, which meant he could wake up from it. Just a dream. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

  
   “ _But what if it was real, Beastie?_ ” That voice again purred, though it sounded farther away this time. As if the owner of that voice was giving him space, taunting him with the distance. The Warrior stiffened, realizing he had been talking out loud about how everything was just a dream. “ _What if... I was real?_ ”

  
A flicker of light broke the darkness, blinding in the otherwise blank space. The Warrior recoiled slightly from the sudden brilliance, his eyes aching after so long of trying to adjust to absolutely nothing. Even surrounding that newly birthed light, the darkness seemed to eat away at the edges of it, as if trying to consume it and snuff it out for good. The Warrior found himself moving towards the light on instinct, one foot in front of the other. A part of his brain was telling him to run the other way, but the beckoning darkness that otherwise surrounded him seemed far more terrifying than the warm light that spilled out of nothing. There was nothing worse than facing an enemy that you simply couldn’t see.

  
Closer, inching step by step towards that light. Soft and warm, like sunlight. But as he got closer, the feeling of trepidation grew. Whatever was lying in that warm light, it was dangerous. Much more so than the darkness that seemed to close in the further he tried to distance himself from it. He hesitated for a moment, his hand outstretched towards that light only to falter.

  
   “ _That’s it Beastie... You don’t really want answers. You want to stay in the dark, where it’s safe and you can play ignorant like all the other vermin you seem intent to surround yourself with. Just give up... Surrender. Don’t fight it..._ ” Again the voice taunted at his ears. Hands moved against his body, and the decision between knowing what was really going on, and remaining in the same place he had been for months needed to be made.

  
The Warrior’s hand reached out and touched the warm light, the soft pulsing glow suddenly exploding into a brilliant landscape. A shriek pierced his ears as the darkness was consumed by the blinding light. An empy void filled with a lush valley completely littered with pink and white flowers. Mountain ranges in the distance held a blue hue from the bright sky and clear water pooled down into an enormous lake that shone like a mirror under the sun. Where was this place? The flowers... Seemed familiar. The same as the ones growing in the Royal Menagerie. The same as the small patch of flowers from.... Before.

  
The sharp sound of clapping had him spinning around, eyes wild and defensive as they caught onto the tall figure slowly walking towards him across the flower-strewn grass. The clapping was slow, intentionally condescending. The smile on the man’s face was even more so, blue eyes roaming over the Warrior’s body. As if calculating. The Warrior took a step back, looking for anything to defend himself with should it turn into a fight for his life, but when he looked again, it appeared that the tall Garlean was just as unarmed as he was. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a threat.

  
Zenos came to a stop, watching the Warrior silently with a slightly amused expression. Though the smile on his face was a little too false, and the look in his eyes was bordering on feral. Like a predator cornering his prey. He forced his gaze to break away from his Warrior only for a moment in order to survey the landscape around them. The scientist had done well, though if one looked too closely they would be able to discern that the world around them was as false as the smile on his face. Zenos looked down at himself next, taking in the common garments that clothed his figure with a sense of mild distaste. Were his circumstances more favorable, he wouldn’t be caught dead in such attire. Hm, caught dead. Now wasn’t that a funny thought.

  
Movement drew his gaze upwards again to his Beastie. Zenos waited for the world to crumble around them, for the nightmares to swarm and twist his visage. He lifted a hand up, looking at the peachy skin that covered it. Not red or gnarled, his fingers flexed and straightened, and the smile on his lips widened just a little wider. Almost unnaturally wider.

  
   “So you have some fire left in you after all.” He murmured, looking over the Warrior standing before him, defensive and tense as if waiting for his attack. No, he wouldn’t attack him here. He wanted his Beastie to feel confused, to want real answers. Enough to seek them out himself. Enough to come looking... Zenos felt a shiver down his spine at the idea of his Beastie coming to him all on his own. Returning to his side where he belonged.

  
The Warrior felt nauseous as he stared at the man, the monster, who had been haunting his memory for months. Standing before him as if nothing had happened, like he had never stabbed him in the first place. Though he wasn’t wearing his armor this time, he was dressed in a fitted wine red doublet with loose white sleeves, dark breeches and knee high leather boots. His long strawberry-blond hair was loosely tied at the base of his neck as if it was merely an afterthought to keep it out of the way. If he didn’t know better, if he hadn’t seen the monster the man could be, he would say he looked eerily... Normal.

  
Long legs carried Zenos closer when he realized that his Beastie was distracted, staring at him without realizing the situation he was in. He reached for his Warrior, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin, taste him against his tongue, only to hiss in displeasure when the other seemed to snap out of his thoughts and jerked back away from him, swinging at his hand in reflex. Zenos grabbed the striking hand by the wrist, jerking the other towards him, against him. Wrapping his other arm around the male’s waist, Zenos leaned in and breathed in slowly through his nose. Blue eyes closed in pleasure as he breathed in his Beastie, his jaw aching to bite down, consume. The other’s aether was like a siren call to him, beckoning him to feed.

  
Too soon, his Beastie wasn’t ripe for the harvest yet. Clicking his tongue, Zenos slowly opened his eyes again. The world around them shuddered slightly as the Warrior tried to free himself, the connection wavering as the ‘dream’ threatened to become a nightmare. No, he couldn’t lose this chance. His Beastie was so vulnerable now. His mind had been so blissfully open, like he wanted Zenos to fill the empty space. He met those eyes and shivered at the fear and panic in them. So bright, still so defiant.

  
   “Beautiful....” He murmured, his hand tightening on the wrist trying to jerk free, pulling the Warrior even closer. How he would love to tumble his Beastie down into the grass, to lay claim to him once again. A sensation he had been denied since that insect had taken what was his. The day his Beastie killed him. Ah, if that wasn’t kismet then he didn’t know what was. He was destined to die by his Beastie’s hand, again and again. Bound together in a fate ever twining. That desire to fight him, to defeat him. That would be the fabled Warrior of Light’s ruin, and by the Gods if he didn’t revel in the mere idea of it.

  
The world shuddered around him, making him growl in displeasure. He was running out of time, too much of it spent playing with his precious Warrior. He tightened his grip on that struggling wrist to draw the other’s attention back to him. “You feel that? Beastie... Do you feel me?” He purred, every fiber of his being pulsing as those eyes focused on him. On only him. He wanted. Needed. Desired. _Hungered_.

  
Focus, he needed to focus. Leaning in a little more, he chuckled when his Warrior tried to lean away. So defiant, so beautiful. “You feel me. Inside. Your mind, your body. They’re all mine. You know it, and I know it.” He said in a low tone, licking his lips. “You feel me on a primal level, like we’re connected. Bound together.” He continued. He wanted to kiss those protesting lips, to silence the denial spilling from them. The chuckle that left him was condescending, cruel and echoed by the amused glint in his gaze. “Are you so sure that this is all in your head? That you’re truly free of me? Is that what those insignificant _worms_ tell you? Precious...” He sneered. “Is that what you want to believe? Then why.... can you.... _feel me?_ ” Zenos growled, giving in to the urge and taking those lips with his own, his kiss rough and hard, meant to taste and consume. Like a man in the desert who finally discovered water. His tongue pushed past full lips, delving deep into the wet cavern of his Beastie’s mouth and indulging in the warm sweetness he had been denied for far too long. He pulled his tongue back before those sharp teeth could clamp down on the exploring appendage, his own taking hold of the Warrior’s lower lip as he pulled back, the scrape of his teeth against the soft and delicate flesh drawing a tremble that rippled through the Warrior and into Zenos’ own body.

  
Catching his breath and reigning in the ravenous hunger that threatened to consume what was rightfully his, Zenos licked his lips slowly to catch the last lingering taste of his Beastie before he pulled back with a chuckle. “See you soon... Beastie.” He purred, and just like that the world around them collapsed.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

The Warrior bolted upright in his bed, his body covered with a cold sweat and his heart hammering in his ears. Everything felt like it was electrified, and for several minutes his eyes wouldn’t adjust to his surroundings. He could feel his hands shaking as he shoved the thick weight off of him, belatedly recognizing it as a blanket before he scrambled off the mattress and hit the floor with a muffled grunt of pain. Fumbling his way across the floor, he felt himself hit a wall and pressed his back into the corner until his eyes finally registered where he was. It wasn’t the dark void from before, it was... His room, in the House of the Fierce. A quick look at the bed told him that he was alone, that Thancred wasn’t by his side.

  
He felt his gut twist at that, remembering their argument earlier that day. The blame, the misunderstanding... No, the denial. The Warrior drew his knees up to his chest, shakily running his hands through his hair. He wasn’t crazy. He knew he wasn’t crazy. He could still feel the weight of Zenos’ grip on his wrist, the pressure of his mouth on his. Dropping a hand to his lips, he shivered at the memory of the possessive kiss. It had been so real, and beyond anything he’s ever experienced before in his nightmares. Aside from one... That face, those feral eyes. He felt sick, but he didn’t think he could even throw up due the fact that he didn’t remember when he last ate something.

  
It was quiet for the most part for a long time, just the distant sound of voices in the hall and his own ragged breathing. This couldn’t continue, he had to end this. Whether it was really in his head or not, something had to be done. But the idea of trying to explain what was happening to Thancred... The knowledge that the rogue didn’t believe him was like a knife between his shoulder blades. Out of anyone, he thought Thancred would understand what was wrong. Or at least have an inkling about it. Or was he so blinded by his own guilt for not being there to save him from being taken by Zenos in the first place?

  
Anger welled up in him at that. No one deserved to feel guilty over that. There was no point in hypothesizing any other outcome than the one that became reality. Nothing was going to change by focusing on the past. So why was he? Why couldn’t he let go of those memories? Was it really what Thancred believed? Was he punishing himself for not being strong enough by subconsciously submitting himself to scenarios with the man again and again? No, it wasn’t any single aspect that his mind seemed to be focused on other than the man himself. It wasn’t the trauma of being taken hostage, or even raped. It was the man himself who haunted his dreams, and only his dreams.

  
The Warrior lifted his head, focusing on that thought. His dreams... When his mind was vulnerable, and open to influence. Could it be possible that the dreams were not the work of his own subconscious, but an outside source altogether? If that was so, then how did he put a stop to it? He wouldn’t even know where to start. How would someone be doing this to him unless they had direct contact with him, or something in his... possession.

  
Realization dawned on him as he scrambled off the floor and bolted to his bag. A rifled search through the contents revealed the wilted, dried flower. The pink and white of the petals were very much faded by now, but it was very obviously the same flowers from the Menagerie, and from that valley in his dream. It had been the only solid piece of evidence that he had to prove he wasn’t going crazy, and now he was beginning to wonder if it was all a plot. A trap. The urge to crush the flower in his hands was tempting, but it was his only lead. He knew that the flowers weren’t from Eorzea, or at least any part of it that he’s traveled to. Aside from the Royal Menagerie. Could they be from Ala Mihigo? Possibly, but much like the rare animals that had once been housed within it, the flowers themselves could also have been imported from far off lands. He needed a botanist. Or at least an alchemist with an advanced knowledge of rare or exotic flora.

  
Wrapping the flower back up and packing it away once again, the Warrior found himself at odds with his next move. The desire to inform Thancred, versus the feeling of betrayal should the other choose not to believe him. He didn’t want to doubt his friend, but how crazy could this possibly get? He had killed Zenos with his own two hands, and yet the man lived and breathed as if it had been merely a scratch. No, he had to finish this. He had allies, ones who had no idea what had happened to him and they wouldn’t ask twice about offering aid. He couldn’t rely on Thancred forever, especially now. The memory of the look in the Hyur’s eyes stung, and prompted him to exchange his sweat drenched clothes for a fresh set and start packing his bag. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t damaged, and he wasn’t helpless. What he was, was very driven, and very angry. Yanking the draw string on his bag to close it up, the Warrior threw it over his shoulder before heading to the door of his room.

  
The House of the Fierce was rather quiet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was because of him. Slipping out into the corridor, the Warrior ignored the ache in his bones and the tension in his muscles begging for more rest. He knew the patrols that Yugiri’s shinobi take, as well as when they change shifts which made it almost too easy to sneak out of the House of the Fierce without being noticed. Though he doubted he was as invisible as he’d like to believe, since Yugiri did train her shinobi well, no one stopped him as he slipped out of one of the various exits hidden among the vast tunnels. Though there were several more that he bet no one knew about, they were mostly designed for use in the case of enemy attack and evacuation. Closing the door behind him silently, the Warrior shivered at the first brush of fresh air against his skin. He was suddenly very glad he had chosen to change out of his sweaty clothes, or else he would come down with an illness long before he got any of the answers he was searching for. Adjusting his bag on his back, the Warrior took one last look at the House of the Fierce, a small flicker of regret in his eyes as he thought about how his friends might react to discover him missing before he took a deep breath and turned away to continue his journey away from the safety of his comrades and their denial, and further into the unknown waters of something he’s not even sure is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zenos' outfit, which is absolutely OOC and I don't care :D.  
> Top/Pants: https://i.imgur.com/D13axWT.jpg?1  
> Boots: https://i.imgur.com/54z1mD9.jpg?1


	7. What's In A Metaphor?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the Warrior of Light vanishes, a foreboding letter and some misplaced aggression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get into this, I want to thank everyone for being so patient waiting for this chapter. Holiday's are not a good time of year for me, and when you stack depression on top of depression you eventually get into a spiral that's hard to get out of. So thank you to all my readers, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait. No beta this time, I wanted to get it posted asap.

   "What do you mean he's _gone_?"

The question was posed by a small Elezen who looked more like he was exasperated with the antics of a young child than the worrying disappearance of one of the strongest warriors in existence. Thancred was leaning against the wall off to the side with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, his eyes unfocused with a frown that seemed permanently etched onto his face ever since the discovery that the Warrior was missing. They had barely begun to search when Alphinaud appeared, bearing a message apparently meant for said Warrior by way of Matoya. That didn't bode well, the old woman hardly interfered with matters not directly involving her.

Hien sighed, fighting the urge to rub tiredly at his eyes. He would admit, he quite preferred the boy's sister at this point. Mostly because he hadn't yet been yelled at by her. He had explained the situation to the boy already, and yet he seemed unable to grasp the mere notion that some time in the night, the Warrior of Light had slipped away unnoticed. It was disconcerting, and Yugiri had been running drills with her shinobi since that morning, trying to pinpoint the weakness that the Warrior had so easily exploited.

   "I fail to see how I could explain the situation any more clearly..." Hien said, realizing that he had struck a nerve when he saw the boy's spine stiffen and his lips purse. The young male seemed to try to stand taller, lifting his chin just a little more and tucking his hands behind his back in an attempt to appear commanding, but not guarded. It was a look he recognized, one often used by those who were constantly overlooked and underestimated. He didn't know who the boy was personally, only from stories told by his sister and the others from Eorzea, but from the tales he was told the young Alphinaud was quite the tactician, if a little naive at times. But mistakes were made to be learned from.

   "Where did he go?" Alphinaud asked, though the question wasn't directed at the Doman prince, but instead at Thancred who had been silent since the boy's arrival. The rogue barely spared a glance at the young Elezen before a shoulder shrugged upwards in response. The guilt was eating away at him, the worry that he had pushed the wrong buttons and made his friend leave. In his current state, the Warrior couldn't have gotten far. Even if he was the famous Warrior of Light, he still had a mortal body that had collapsed due to exhaustion recently. If they worked quickly, hopefully they could track the other down before he got too far.

   "If I knew, do you really think I would still be standing here?" Thancred asked after a few minutes of silence. His head was throbbing but he ignored the hangover. He deserved to suffer the discomfort. It was his fault that he hadn't noticed his friend slipping out, if he hadn't gotten drunk, if he hadn't fallen asleep. If he hadn't done this, or done that. It was too late to think about what he should have done differently. He needed to focus on what he could do now to fix the mess he had helped cause.

   "Well surely you must know something. The two of you have been nearly unreachable since that day aboard the Garlean airship, and at your request we have been keeping our distance. Though no one would tell us why it was imperative that the Warrior be subjected to such a lengthy vacation..." Alphinaud said, failing to miss the way Thancred's shoulders tensed. The young tactician pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache settle in as he began to form a plan. "We'll head for the ports, perhaps he's gone to seek passage back home. Twelve knows I'd be going absolutely mad if I were told to sit on my hands for several--."

Thancred moved before anyone could blink. In a brief moment he had crossed the room and in the next Alphinaud was knocked onto his backside by a swift punch. Thancred's gaze was icy and venomous, narrowing in on the young Elezen. Alphinaud's mouth opened, a protest as well as an indignant shout dying as Thancred stepped towards him again. Hien swiftly moved between the two, an arm extended to press against Thancred's chest and halt his approach. The rogue looked tempted to start swinging again, but the solid stare that Hien gave him had the fight draining from his limbs a moment later. He knew that if he took a swing at the Doman, Hien wouldn't hold back in retaliating.

The tension held in the air for several moments as Hien turned and helped Alphinaud to his feet, inspecting the reddened flesh of his cheek. It would no doubt bruise and swell as Thancred hadn't held back.

   "You... This... What in the name of Hydaelyn has gotten into you!?" Alphinaud finally blurted out once he was back on his feet, his hand cupping his aching cheek. Thancred leveled his gaze on the other, and the teenager took a cautious step back despite the fact that Hien looked ready to intervene once again. He motioned for one of the nearest onlookers to come forward, pushing Alphinaud towards the stranger.

   "Get our young guest something for that cheek, would you?" He said, moving away from a protesting teenager to a seething adult. Standing in front of Thancred to catch the others eye, Hien jerked his head towards the door. Some fresh air would do some good, and there would be less wandering eyes should he feel the need to strike out again. He never thought he would see the day where it would turn out to be him being the mature figure in a conflict. Oh if Gosetsu could see him now...

Thancred seemed to hesitate before he headed for the door, his head ducking down slightly as if ashamed for his actions. As well he should be. Hien could already feel the urge to let out a long suffering sigh, wondering when he had grown up so much to become the mature adult in situations like this. Once they were standing outside, Hien crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for Thancred to collect himself.

Eventually the rogue took a deep breath, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. "I apologize, I should not have..." He started, his words dying in his throat when Hien waved his hand dismissively and shook his head.

   "I am not the one that requires an apology, but that will have to wait. For now, would you mind explaining just what that was back there? From the stories I've been told, you are not one to lash out against friends, and I had been led to believe that the young Alisae and her brother were just that to you." Hien said, his tone even and calm, but his gaze was full of warm curiosity. He didn't know what to make of the rogue when he first appeared with the Warrior of Light, but given their mutual friend he had deigned to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Thancred pressed his lips together and looked down at his feet as he tried to think about just what it was that he could tell the prince that wouldn't betray the Warrior's privacy. After a few minutes of sullen silence, he eventually decided to tell the Doman about the others nightmares since that night without going into as much detail as he could. It wasn't his right to tell others about what Zenos had done aboard that airship, though he had a feeling that the Lady Yugiri already knew. Perhaps he should have confided in her, she may have been able to give some insight on how to best approach the subject. It might have saved him from making the blunder that he did. Again, it wasn't a matter of what he could have done or should have done. What they needed to focus on now was the future.

   "I just... He's not immortal." Thancred finally said after he had given Hien the abridged version of what had been happening since the Warrior's rescue from the Garlean airship. "He's not this invincible primal slaying weapon, and yet it's become so expected of him... The others... They seem to forget that he's as mortal as you or I, and I fear that the day may come where he breaks and there won't even be pieces remaining. " Thancred said solemnly. It had been eating at him since that first night, the way the other had clung to his presence without a word. It had been a very sobering moment to recognize that vulnerability in someone who seem so unbreakable.

Hien watched Thancred until the other stopped talking before a small smile brushed his lips. "You know... When I first met this famous Warrior of Light, I asked myself who this stranger was that had my most trusted allies looking on in awe. I have seen some of the best fighters in this day and age, and not one of them holds a candle to the bravery our mutual friend possesses." Hien said, stepping forward and clapping a hand onto Thancred's shoulder, catching the rogue off guard enough to make his head jerk up in surprise and his pale eye focus in on the Doman in bewilderment.

   "But the thing about brave warriors is that there is no one more aware of their own mortality than them. Even with that outcome hanging over their heads they continue to fight on. They know their time is short, so they use that time to ensure the world is safer and better for those around them and for those to come after them." Hien said, clearing his throat and dropping his hand from Thancred's shoulder. The rogue noticed the other's attempt to give him space and offered a weak smile in appreciation.

The soft sound of a throat being cleared drew their attention to the door, where Alphinaud was standing awkwardly. His cheek had been tended to, but the sight of the bandage made Thancred wince apologetically. The young tactician gave the rogue a wary glance before he looked to Hien with a quiet observational stare. After a pause that seemed to carry unspoken words between the trio, Hien nodded and gave Thancred a small bow before departing. He wanted to meet up with Yugiri and see if her shinobi had found any trail to follow left behind by their missing friend.

Alphinaud turned his gaze back onto Thancred silently, trying to think before he spoke. The rogue ran a hand through his hair before turning to the young Elezen with a groan. "I apologize... I should not have hit you, it was uncalled for." Thancred started, looking mildly surprised when Alphinaud let out a soft snort. He gave the boy a quizzical look before Alphinaud elaborated for him.

   "Just... Please refrain from mentioning that detail to my sister. I fear she would not let me live the experience down." Alphinaud said, stepping out of the doorway to come to a stop at Thancred's side, looking out towards the ruins of Doma Castle in the distance. "I fear it will most likely not be the last time either. While I pride myself in using words to avoid conflict, sometimes I quite easily manage to get myself into it because of them as well." He said, letting the awkward humor hang between them before clearing his throat once again to interrupt the silence.

   "Can I ask... what it was that I said that angered you so?" He asked tentatively, looking at Thancred out of the corner of his eye like he fully expected the other to hit him again. Thancred felt a scowl settle onto his lips, but quickly wiped it away before shaking his head.

   "I will tell you later. When you arrived you said you had a message from Matoya for the Warrior of Light. What was it?" Thancred asked, deciding it would be better not to speak for the Warrior and his role in handling the primal threat, as well as every other threat that seemed to crawl out of the wood work every few months without him being there himself. Alphinaud wanted to press, his curiosity relentless, but the memory of Thancred's face right before he hit him was a reminder that perhaps it would be best if he let the topic simply drop for now.

   "Ah, yes. I received a letter which I thought was odd since she didn't seem the type to contact the outside world at all. As if she just expects people to fall into her cave when it's conveniently timed..." He said with soft huff before reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a slightly crumpled letter. "She wrote that she had a dream of the Warrior, and a terrifying vision of a red figure, like some kind of shade or wraith." He said, pulling the page from the envelope and unfolding it before passing it to Thancred. "The worrying part is the prophecy she sent along with the letter. Something about making a sacrifice..." He said, watching the rogue's face pale as he read the contents of the letter. His fingers tightened on the page, crumpling it slightly in his grip.

Thancred's stomach sank as he reached the mentioned prophecy, his eyes scanning it line by line. As if trying to garner some hidden message in the words. "To tame the monster and save the beast..." He murmured, wondering why that line was the one that stuck out so strongly. Memories of conversations about the nightmares and the visions that had haunted the Warrior to the point where sleep was impossible trickled through his mind. Thancred brushed his thumb along the scrawled penmanship on the page, his lips moving as he read the prophecy again and again. "To tame the monster... and save the...." He repeated, trailing off as it clicked in his mind.

   "Beastie..." Thancred said, getting a curious and confused sound from the young Elezen at his side who looked tempted to pull the page from the rogue's hands so he couldn't damage the letter any further. Thancred shook himself, realizing what he had just said out loud. "That's what he called him. That... That swivin' whoreson." Thancred growled, letting the letter be tugged from his hands before he could tear a hole into it by accident.

Alphinaud gave Thancred an unimpressed look at his foul language before he decided that his need to know what the man was talking about was stronger than his urge to scold him for swearing. "What on earth are you on about?" Alphinaud pressed, looking at the letter himself as if he could somehow come to the same conclusion as Thancred had in regards to the contents.

Thancred looked sick as well as violent, and Alphinaud took a cautious step back to ensure he wasn't within fist range again. While he didn't doubt he would be on that side of someone's aggression again, it wasn't an experience he wished to revisit so quickly. "Zenos Yae Galvus." Thancred all but spat out venomously. Alphinaud stiffened at the Garlean's name, looking around as if he expected the dead man to step out from behind a bush or something.

   "That's impossible, he's dead. You saw him die." Alphinaud protested, looking down at the letter when it was gestured at by Thancred. Once again he read the apparent prophecy. "For Death itself cannot prevent a twining of paths once fated...?" Alphinaud guessed, licking his lips nervously. "Does that mean...?" Alphinaud started, praying to the Twelve that he was wrong. It was just a silly poem and they were taking things far too literally. His sister was far more creatively inclined than he was, perhaps she would grasp a different meaning to the letter than they did.

Thancred grit his teeth and tried to find some semblance of control. He didn't want it to mean what he thought it meant. If it did, then the months of sleepless nights, of nightmares where he was chased and haunted by a red wraith as well as the nickname of Beastie like a poison whisper in his mind weren't just hallucinations or his mind trying to cope with the trauma of what happened to him. Thancred could kick himself, but it wouldn't do much to change the situation or make what he said the day before vanish into nothing.

   "Let us pray for the best, but prepare for the worst." Thancred said, preparing to go to Hien and Yugiri and request their aid in tracking down the wayward Warrior, though he suspected they were far ahead of him in that regard. Alphinaud trailed behind him quietly, tucking the letter away in his jacket for safe keeping.

   "So say the best scenario is that we're reading far too much into this and it's merely a metaphor... What's the worst?" Alphinaud asked, though by his grim tone it appeared he already knew what the answer would be.

Thancred took a deep breath to center himself, feeling a knot settle in his throat and threaten to choke him before he could utter the truth.

   "That Zenos Yae Galvus isn't as dead as we thought..." Was the ominous reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed something different recently, and if not I'll point it out to you. I have disabled anonymous commenting on all of my fics and all comments will be moderated from now on due to some... Unpleasant ones that have been left on THATA. I won't go into details, but it wasn't a welcome statement nor did it need to be made so for the betterment of my mental health and to keep the comment section as warm and pleasant as it had been in the past, you will no longer be able to leave anonymous comments. See you in the next chapter!


	8. Future Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aulus has been a busy bee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We know how this goes, a chapter full of visuals and intrigue... and then a chapter full of exposition and build up. Well, unfortunately we've had the former and now here comes the latter. As usual this is unbeta'd.

The sun beat down on the cloaked figure as they carefully picked their way through debris and terrain, unable to escape the bright rays due to the lack of any true shade in this bright, rocky wasteland. The figure's cloak was torn, dirty and had fallen to disrepair, but it served a purpose; to cover uniquely lavender colored hair from prying eyes. Not that many would recognize him this far from Garlemald, as he was typically the one behind the scenes, the puppet master so to speak. But one could never be too careful. Aulus returned to the cave system that had been transformed into a paltry excuse for a lab for the last several months as he prepared to move his precious creation.

  
Thankfully, the torchlight wasn't visible from the mouth of the cave entrance, so no one would be the wiser for his presence. Not that many people often came out this way, for there would usually be many threatening creatures roaming the hills around the caves. But it was as if they could sense something wrong, something dangerous about whatever was lurking deeper into the caves. In a sealed containment unit made from the remains of the escape pod Aulus had flown from the ship, and several pieces of dismantled Garlean tech around the surrounding area, Zenos Yae Galvus' body lay in artificial cryogenic sleep. Whether by luck or brilliant design, though he was most likely to favor the latter, the pods are equipped with a state of the art life support system. In the event of a critically inflicted wound, the system itself would trigger to sustain cryogenic sleep until such time as the seal was broken in order to administer medical attention. While it wasn't perfect, it had done an adequate enough job of keeping the prince's body alive for now, at least until Aulus could come up with a plan.

  
The soul extraction had been difficult, and he hadn't expected the results to clash so drastically with the results of his Resonant research. His initial intention had been to temporarily bind Zenos' soul to an artifact, in the event of his body potentially expiring. But instead, the man had come forth as a twisted, swirling mass of red smoke, thrashing at anything and everything with deadly force. His inability to control his current state brought about destruction as one of these lashing tantrums damaged the pod keeping his body intact, and consequently damaged the body within as well. Rot had begun to set in on his left side, with the possibility of it being internal as well. It was impossible to tell with the current equipment he had at his disposal. But he had done his best to cap off the rot at the worst of it, though he was a scientist and not a chirurgeon. Though the body was just a vessel to house one's aether, the soul was inexplicably linked to it, and he feared should the physical self expire, then the fearsome red wraith that was the prince would vanish as well. That simply could not happen, not when he had made so much progress with his research due to these new developments.

  
The aether feeding had been an unpleasant but interesting discovery. In order to retain a solid shape, the cost of which was the wraith's rather limited aether pool without a physical body to recover it with rest, he was forced to feed on the aether of others. Yet the creature seemed insatiable, always going on about how it wasn't enough, or it didn't taste right. Though if he had to wager a guess, he could easily surmise just what it was that the wraith was seeking. It was almost pitiful how predictable his employer had become in time time since Rhalgr's Reach, and his fateful encounter with the famous Warrior of Light.

  
Aulus pushed the hood from his head, sighing in relief at the cool air of the caves hitting his overheated skin. Carrying his scavenging haul to his makeshift work table, he took a seat and set to work, ignoring the gnawing growl of his stomach. Anger had been long since replaced with vindictive determination at his situation. Unable to step foot within the surrounding towns due to rumors of bodies turning up, drained of life as if they were empty canteens in the desert. It had made the villagers wary of strangers, and had limited his access to food, water and other resources. Though he survived, he always would as that's what had gotten him to where he was now. The thought had his hands pause in their work, his gaze lifting to look around him. That statement might have been more beneficial before now, though he had every intention of using this to further his career in the future. Would the Empire not reward such genius if one were to bring their beloved prince back to them from the dead? And if they would not, well he had certainly garnered favor from the man himself. Or the wraith of the man that is. If they would not give him what he was owed, then he would ally himself with the one who could take it for him. After all, was it not his genius that allowed the wraith to connect with his precious Warrior?

  
The oddity of the prince's fascination for the Warrior confused Aulus at first, until he started to apply scientific reasoning to it. The wraith needed to feed on aether to survive, so would it not stand to reason that the wraith would clamor after the most bountiful of harvests in order to sustain its life force? An almost bottomless amount of powerful aether, strong enough to slay primals with ease. While his research into the Echo and the famed Warrior of Light as a whole had been fruitful, it had unfortunately been short lived due to the unfortunate liberation of Ala Mhigo. He would have liked the chance to further his research into what exactly made the Warrior of Light and his fellows tick.

  
Getting to his feet, Aulus approached the makeshift containment unit housing the prince's body, the cryogenic system frosting over the glass and nearly concealing the contents within from prying eyes. Soon they would be ready to leave from this place and head to Garlemald. Once there, he would have access to the technology he required to repair the damage to the prince's body as well as the resources to keep him sustained until such time he could bind the wraith back to its vessel. The Garlean scientist pulled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, feeling grit and dirt grind uncomfortably into his skin. What he wouldn't give to bathe properly. The comforts he would often neglect as he lost himself in his work made him almost regret taking them for granted. Almost.

  
The wraith itself was dormant for now, a reprieve from the almost infant like tantrums thrown throughout the day. Though it would not do for much longer, as the current food source was running out. Aulus tucked his arms behind his back and casually strode over to the makeshift transferral unit he had made. It had been trial and error, several failed executions and nearly his own life in the balance before he managed to concoct some form of contraption that would drain a live host of their aether and into the wraith without it having to go hunt for itself. It had been a task to get the wraith to stop killing the subjects upon their capture, a chore that had nearly gotten him consumed more than once. It wasn't efficient by any means, since there was still the matter of the physical body to dispose of, but it would do for now.

  
Currently, the wraith was connected to the machine and silent. Aulus would assume asleep, but he didn't know if the creature even slept. He supposed he should stop calling the wraith it, or a creature, as it was his employer and the crowned prince of Garlemald, but those were semantics best dealt with in time. The wraith had something cupped in its hands, the deep red and gnarled limbs cradling something almost as if it were precious. Aulus didn't move closer to inspect the item, as it didn't interest him that much, but he could tell from here that whatever it was had a shade of pale pink and white to it.

  
The current unfortunate victim of the machine and the wraith's appetite was strapped to a nearby table, which was really a repurposed exoshield from a wrecked magitek unit. Aulus approached the prone figure, taking in the pale and mottled skin. Interesting, signs of decay have begun to appear already. Perhaps it had to do with age, or with the rate the wraith was feeding at. Whatever the blood red creature was doing, it was consuming more energy than if it were simply sustaining itself. Which made him wonder if it was once again feeding into its obsessive nature in regards to the Warrior. Trying to initiate a mental connection with someone malms away from their current location. Aulus wanted to sigh heavily, but refrained from drawing the attention of the wraith. The first time this had been attempted it had nearly destroyed all of his hard work, scattering the wraith's energy like dust in the wind. Though he had managed to stabilize the wraith over the course of several months, it had been a major set back in his plans to get them back to Garlemald. It didn't help that the wraith seemed to be fighting him every step of the way as they moved away from where it believed the Warrior of Light was currently located, but it had been a simple argument of whether or not Zenos himself wanted to be seen by his oh so precious 'Beastie' looking like some voidsent monstrosity.

  
After checking the vitals of the near corpse on the table, Aulus gauged how much more they could drain from this body before they would have to acquire a fresh food source. If they timed it right, the body would last a few more days and he could finish getting the last pieces of transportation together. That is of course if the crimson creature to his right could practice a little more restraint with its food in coming days, though he had a feeling that such an argument would illicit yet another infantile tantrum. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Aulus slipped his spectacles back on before he returned to work, eager to move forward with his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who've commented on my Tumblr, talking to me about how much they liked this story and also being very patient while I continuously fight between depression and writer's block. You're all amazing and I'm honestly so grateful to have some amazing readers and friends.
> 
> ALSO! There is more fan art, this time by ryuusei-no-subaru! Check out their Tumblr and give them some love for their amazing art! 
> 
> http://ryuusei-no-subaru.tumblr.com/post/169873730137  
> http://ryuusei-no-subaru.tumblr.com/post/169789494907


	9. To Garlemald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again we join Aulus and his plans for the future, and the wraith shares its most inner thoughts.

Morning came slowly, the light barely breaking over the mountains in the distance. It would be several hours before the sun could break the frosty chill that settled over the land at the base of those mountains, but time was of the essence and Aulus was not eager to allow precious daylight to dwindle away because it was merely chilly out. If he had to spend one more evening in this infernal cave, he may go mad. Particularly if he were subjected to yet more tantrums by a man he once admired as a strong leader. Whatever that Warrior had done to him, Zenos was not the same as he once was. While the prince had always been the type to pursue what he pleased, there was an almost desperate obsessiveness that came to light whenever the topic of the Warrior would come up. But at least now he had gotten compliance in setting his plan in motion. The first order of business would be to return to Garlemald. They would not have spread word that their crowned prince was deceased, not wanting to allow the seeds of hope to flourish in the lesser masses as they had in such places as Ala Mhigo. If anything, the royal family and higher ranking officials would be weaving a tale to excuse the absence of their crowned prince until such time they could fashion a more beneficial tale of his passing. One that would not rock the already shaky hold the Garlean Empire had upon their conquered lands. Rumors of the great deeds of the Resistance, and the fact that Ala Mhigo and Doma were free of Garlean rule had been quelled to the best of the Empire's ability, but many people knew that where there was smoke there was often a lit flame.

 

The last of the supplies were loaded, what little that could be scavenged from the surrounding wasteland. Aulus curled his lip in distaste as he looked out from the entrance of the cave. While he was loathe to the idea of travelling out once again across that open stretch of earth, the idea of spending even a minute longer in this cave had him moving to check the final preparations. Their transportation was nothing glamorous, but it would serve its purpose. Aulus frowned at the mismatched magitek as it briefly shuddered under the weight of its cargo. It would serve its purpose... Possibly. He had done what he could with salvaged parts of wrecks and dismantled convoys, though he was uncertain if it would last the entire journey. But it was better than trying to drag the entirety of the damaged escape pod behind him. The engines were still salvageable, but the rest of the ship was too badly damaged to risk flying, so the cockpit was merely necessary to act as a cryogenic chamber. All he had to do was mount it to a new body, without disconnecting the power from the original system that was keeping his lord's body on ice. Another look at the machine had Aulus once again reassuring himself that it would last.

 

The remains of their presence had been disposed of, either acting as pieces of the makeshift transportation, or had been taken off site in order to deter anyone's suspicions should they discover the cave itself. The only thing that remained was the body of the latest feeding source for the wraith. It was slumped over the side of the machine, awaiting to be dumped away where the wild animals could feed on it and erase the evidence of the true cause of death.

 

Aulus double and triple checked the state of the prince's body, as well as making sure the wraith was where he required it to be. Seated on the back, idly touching what Aulus had discovered to be a flower. Aside from the medical and scientific applications a flower and other flora could have, Aulus had no use for them and could not say what type of flower it was. It seemed familiar though, but he couldn't quite place why that was. The wraith blatantly ignored him, not finding any reason to interact or communicate with the scientist. It irked Aulus at the idea of being treated as something insignificant. As if everything now wasn't owed wholly to him and his genius. If not for him, the Garlean's would be without their monster of a crowned prince. Scowling at the wraith, Aulus merely tossed the dark cloak towards it before pulling on his own to maintain their cover. While it would have been more opportune to travel at night when visibility was low, he feared the machine would not offer them the silence they would require in order to slip stealthily through the darkness.

 

Returning to the front of the mech, Aulus climbed into the seat and started it up. The engines came to life with a roar that echoed off the damp cave walls, and with a lurch the machine began to move forward. It was not the smoothest of gaits, but it hadn't broken down within the first minute so progress was within grasp. The moment they were out of the cave, the noise from the engine itself quelled greatly, though it was still not quiet enough to give them the opportunity to slip by unnoticed. Someone would eventually hear the engine, if they hadn't already. A glance back told him that the wraith had indeed pulled on the cloak, and went back to softly humming and petting the flower. It seemed to hum more and more lately, as if caught in a memory. Or showing signs of madness. Aulus almost smirked to himself before he turned his gaze forward again. That was the thing, the prince had already shown madness. At least that's what many believed, but they never realized how rational he was in his insanity. Nothing more terrifying than that.

 

As the machine lumbered along, joints creaking and the ground crunching as it moved, Aulus gave pause only long enough to roll the corpse off the mech and leave it to the wild animals and plague infested vermin in the area. The smell of rotting meat should start attracting them once the wraith had vacated the area. Settling back into his seat, feeling much better without the rank stench of decaying flesh to churn his stomach, Aulus got the lurching machine going again, heading towards Garlemald with its rather precious cargo in tow.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

The red wraith barely paid the swaying and clunking pace the machine it was seated on any mind, twirling the small flower between long and gnarled fingers. Bringing one up to gently brush along the petals, it tried to imagine it was touching soft lips instead of the smooth petal of a flower. The memory of peachy skin, the whisper of clothing as limbs moved... The wraith felt something ache in its chest, where a heart would be in any normal body. The breeze barely picked up, whispering at tendrils of blood red hair, pulling away at the mist that formed the lower half of its body. Hollow eyes looked down, where legs had been days ago in a dream, feeling the ground beneath feet clad in leather boots as clothing draped long limbs.

 

It wondered idly if this was the effect of dying. To miss the mortal cage of life, of a body. While it had limbs, and could touch, it felt cold and empty inside. Or outside. Both at the same time it seemed, as it could feel its own icy temperature against its fingertips. The cold of death. Unlike the Warrior, who had felt so warm in his dream. Soft skin, hard muscle... The wraith curled its hand around the flower a little more, shielding it from being picked up by the breeze. Though it was a part of itself, it was also the only connection it had to its Beastie. When it had come into being, thoughts had been impossible, feeling only the ravenous hunger for sustenance, but now here it was contemplating its own mortality and how much it missed having a beating heart. Perhaps it was just the warmth, for the fragility of a mortal body was nothing short of a nuisance and served no purpose if it were to be damaged beyond repair. If it weren't required to maintain the weak signs of life in its own mortal body, the wraith would have severed ties long ago. At least, that's what it believed at first.

 

The memory of a dream turned nightmare, the horror in bright eyes that used to make a mortal body ache with want. The wraith's massive maw split apart, baring rows upon rows of needle like teeth as an unhappy hiss slipped free. It craved the fear it once saw, the defiance, the hatred... But not the abject horror that now filled its mind. As if the Beastie had finally glimpsed upon the monster within. Again the wraith's empty eyes looked at red hands. Red, like blood. Stained with the lives of thousands. The wraith's mouth cracked with a smile at the memory of their screams, pleads for mercy, prayers that some magnificent warrior of virtue and light would come save them from the hell that was their reality. A magnificent warrior that the wraith had tasted, touched, and taken.

 

That ache was back again, drawing yet another unpleasant hiss out of the wraith as it drew the dark cloth of its cloak further around the deep red of its form. A side effect of being connected to that dying body, no doubt. The scientist would need to figure out how to separate them before that rotting corpse destroyed the wraith as well. Though the body wasn't entirely dead, only dying. It was... inconvenient. As if the body was tethering the wraith to the memory of the mortal life it had lived before, as Zenos yae Galvus. The wraith felt nothing at the name, as if thinking about a mere acquaintance. Though that was the name the scientist called it, so it must mean it had belonged to the wraith. Memories were tricky things, sometimes it would seem as though it were seeing them for itself, but others it would feel as if the wraith were merely a bystander. Except for the times when that warrior appeared. _Beastie_. The name ate away at the wraith's lips, the urge to purr the sound almost impossible to resist. The one constant in an otherwise void existence. Such sweet aether, calling to the wraith to feed. To devour. The dreams when the wraith entered the Beastie's mind were the only things worthwhile. When it would draw on the memories of a Garlean prince to taunt, to tease and to tempt the immaculate warrior. All for the sake of tasting that sweet aether. The longer the wraith remained though, the further the memories of who Zenos was slipped away. Making it harder to remember how the man with blue eyes would act, what he remembered. As if losing what made Zenos who he was, and only leaving a wraith the color of blood in his place.

 

The sound of shouting, and the eventual groaning stop of the machine had the wraith raising its head from its lowered, contemplative position. Brash tones and orders given had the wraith tilting its head curiously. It could hear the scientist's calm tone, though it had driven the small man to the edge enough times to recognize the barely restrained fury beneath an otherwise pleasant reply. The wraith's maw twitched at that. It was a game to rile the scientist up, but whatever was happening was rendering them unable to progress towards a solution to separating the wraith from the dying mortal flesh of a body it once inhabited. It didn't like that. Slipping the heavy cloak off, the wraith's form dissolved into red mist that crawled along the undercarriage of the makeshift mech, up around the legs of the troops preventing them from moving forward. Several panicked cries were soon followed by the sound of gunfire as one of the men was taken hold of by the wraith suddenly appearing out of its own mist, firing in automatic reflex to the appearance of a terrifying monster.

 

The soldier's dying scream gurgled to a wet end as the wraith's fingers crushed into a vulnerable throat, taking advantage of the soft fabric that served as a key weak point beneath a helm that looked oddly familiar. A sea of the same helms came to mind, following a salute. Something was familiar about the uniform, as if it was a memory.

 

   "My lord." The scientist's voice drew the wraith's attention. Lord? Ah, Zenos. Of course. Ever so slowly, the wraith let the dead man drop before turning vacant hollows for eyes onto the remaining troops. Several dressed the same, wielding weapons. Upon a machine much like the one that the scientist had fashion, albeit sleeker and without as many creaks and groans. Aulus leaned forward on the steering mechanism, feeling the shake of the running engine through the metal frame. "Now, my good men. As I was saying... Your service as an escort to the palace would be very much appreciated. I have some rather precious cargo that requires protection at all cost, you understand." He said, offering them each a flat stare and a calm smile. While it was sooner than he had expected, he had known they would eventually be discovered by a Garlean patrol envoy. If only they hadn't been the type who were so ignorant of their better's, and of who's presence they were currently pointing their weapons in the direction of.

 

   "Come now, is that any way you wish to treat his royal highness, Zenos yae Galvus?" Aulus asked, reaching behind him to pull the tattered tarp off the cargo in the back, revealing the makeshift containment unit. Through the frost, the features of the Garlean prince's face were unmistakable, as was the eerie resemblance to the terrifying wraith-like monster that floated up towards it curiously, pressing a blood red hand against the glass as empty eye sockets stared emptily at a face that it may have once recognized when looking in a mirror. Aulus made a show of adjusting his glasses and lifting his chin proudly, his mouth curled into a condescending smirk at the wary stance the men had taken, their weapons slowly lowering as if they were fighting against natural instinct to protect themselves from the wraith currently following the patterns of frost along the pod's windshield with a finger, much the way it would trace the petals of a certain pink and white flower. "Now then gentlemen..." Aulus announced, drawing all attention back to him as he made a show of covering the containment unit from view once again much to the displeased hiss it sparked from the wraith. "The palace?" The scientist prompted with a slow and deliberate lift of an eyebrow.


	10. A New Challenger Enters the Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new character joins the narrative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next one were going to be one chapter but it felt weird to keep them together. So this is a little shorter than normal, but I should have the next part up soon.

The sound of shouting could be heard throughout the halls of Garlemald, echoing off of vaulted ceilings and industrial support beams. The source of the noise was a slim young man dressed in a stark white uniform that seemed to make him glow under the manufactured lighting from above. A startling contrast to the black uniform typically worn by the ordinary Garlean soldier. 

  
   "What do you mean, no visitors?" The raven haired male sneered, looking up at the masked guard before the laboratory turned medical room. "If rumors are to be believed, then someone will need to verify that our Lord and Prince is indeed returned." The male said, the whites of his eyes showing in an almost manic state. His heart had been pounding against his chest ever since he had gotten the news. That Zenos yae Galvus yet lives, though injured. But breathing all the same. The idea that someone could injure the walking legend that was the Garlean prince had bile rising in the back of Asahi's throat, but he quickly tamped it down in order to level the guard with yet another glare. While it might have gotten him sway at other times, it seemed the orders that no one save for the lavender-haired buffoon was to enter the quarters were absolute.

  
The guard said nothing, merely tilting his head at the male instead of voicing a response this time. There wasn't much more that could be said that hadn't already been addressed. His orders were clear. No visitors, at any cost. Disobeying them to appease some entitled brat would mean death, or worse, for him. Though he knew of the rank and station of the male in front of him, the guard took some delight in knowing that even he wasn't made an exception for. For once, a lowly guard held the power, and he did so with a firm stance and a near delight in ignoring the tantrum-like behavior displayed before him.

  
Asahi recognized that he wasn't going to get what he wanted from a more forthcoming approach, and would have to think of a more indirect way to get what he wanted. What he wanted was confirmation, to see the truth with his own two eyes. His lord had walked among the battlefield like a god among men, and now the rumors that he had defied Death itself... Asahi felt a shiver run down his spine at the implications. Schooling his expression after a moment of careful consideration, Asahi straightened his crisp white uniform and brushed a hand over his hair to smooth any stray strands.

  
   "Very well, but know that this is not over." He said firmly, the thought of cutting down this lowly guard who dared stand between him and his Lord Zenos passed the front of his mind for a brief moment but he quickly quelled the malicious idea. It wouldn't do to draw too much attention to himself too quickly, he had a part to play for a little longer. In time, his Lord Zenos would recognize Asahi's value as his one true disciple and would make every moment of restraint worthwhile. Turning on his heel, Asahi strode away from the guard at the door, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade. His mind was a swirling vortex of thoughts and emotions, and though it pained him to do so he knew he would have to wait like all the others to see if the rumors were true. Which left him with his original plan, to track down the savage creature that dare cut down his lord and rid this land of them. Though it wouldn't be so simple, as his sister had done wonders to make the people of Hingashi despise their Garlean overlords with a passion. She was over emotional and sloppy, and rightly deserved to have a castle drop upon her head. While she could have been of use as a pawn in his plan, her loss was of no personal concern to him. But it did mean that the people of Hingashi were not open to negotiations of peace, and his very plan was relying on their naiveté and their rather boorishly trusting nature. Get them to lower their guard, and strike when their back was turned. It was underhanded, but that's how he preferred to do things. He enjoyed it when others underestimated him, it made the look of utter surprise in their eyes as he cuts them down that much more exhilarating.

  
   "Maxima." Asahi said plainly, feeling the presence of the tall Elezen fall into step beside him. They walked down the halls for a ways until he was sure that they had the illusion of privacy. "Is everything ready?" He asked simply, wanting to put his own plan into action. He had more than proven himself to be capable of doing what he pleases, but he wasn't so ignorant to think that Maxima wasn't reporting his every move to the higher ups. No matter, so long as they didn't get in his way.

  
   "Normally I would agree, as we have been ready for some few days now, I'm reluctant to report that there has been some complications." The Elezen said, meeting Asahi's enraged glare with a stable stare of his own, his arms tucked calmly behind him in a standard military stance.

 

   "Explain." Asahi hissed out lowly, his hand tightening on the hilt of his blade unconsciously.

  
Maxima raised his hand at the physical response, his expression stern but not argumentative. "There's no need for that sir. But sources have reported that the Warrior of Light has parted company with the Doman Liberation Front. He makes for open seas, perhaps Ala Mhigo itself... and he travels alone." Maxima said, thin lips pulling into a smile at the positively delighted look that Asahi's vicious expression shifted into. Like night and day, the way the slim male could shift expressions and personalities was like simply switching which mask he wished to wear. It was rather unnerving to those not used to the way he did things.

  
Asahi was positively giddy at the news. If the infamous Warrior of Light was traveling alone, then he was either very confident in his strength, or he was blissfully stupid. Like a dumb wild animal. This was the chance he was waiting for, finally he could exact revenge on the savage beast that dared to try to rid the world of his lord's lustrous light. The chuckle was barely there for a moment, but slowly it grew until it bubbled out between thin lips stretched into an eerily wide smile. With shoulders shaking and his stomach aching, Asahi let his head fall back as the laugh of triumph left him in full effect. Rather unsightly for someone of his rank, but he couldn't help it. All the planning to win the trust of that hack of a prince and his motley crew of savages, and the prize they were after had all but offered himself up for capture without having to exert any effort to execute the plan in the first place! Once he managed to contain himself, the laughter trailing off into the softest of giggles, Asahi licked his lips in anticipation.

  
   "Shall we go pick up our unsuspecting guest then?" He asked cheerily, that sweetly deceptive look back on his face though his eyes carried that wild hunger. Like a snake in the grass waiting for the opportunity to strike its prey and swallow it whole.


	11. Flower Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two, the interior of the laboratory.

In the confines of a rich and rather lavish laboratory turned medical room, three things could be made of note. One being the state of the male lying in what seemed to be a magitek bubble shield, soft blue light making his pale skin seem almost ashen, long strawberry blond locks recently combed free of tangles and arranged neatly against a crisp white pillow. The shield acted as a stasis chamber, slowly repairing damaged cells caused by the ice from a poorly constructed cryogenic chamber. Though the damage was almost entirely internal, there was some damage to the external tissue that could not be salvaged as a result of the crash, and lack of medical attention after the fact. On the right was a long and a lean but muscled arm of flesh, laid neatly across a torso covered with soft blankets of fine quality. On the left however, the blanket seemed to dip and lie flat below the elbow, as if there were meant to be something there that wasn't.

  
It would almost appear to be an ordinary chirurgeon's bed were it not for the clearly magitek shielding and contraptions attaching the bed to a large tank of which was filled with a swirling red mass of smoke. The second strange thing contained in the room, the behavior of the smoke itself was odd. Pressed to one side, not rising nor falling and didn't seem to have any indication of what its purpose was. Every so often, something that resembled a hand would come through the red smoke, press against the glass and then disappear. As if someone were trapped within. But the hand itself was as blood red as the mass contained within the chamber, gnarled fingers impossibly long as if it were merely mimicking what a hand should actually look like. At times, if one looked long enough, they might see a face contained within that smoke as well. Empty and hollow eyes, a mouth monstrously large and filled to the brim with razor-like teeth. Sneering, snarling, and then it would vanish into a shapeless mass again. But it never moved about the tank and remained pressed to a specific side, swirling and twisting in slow movements for several seconds before it seemed to lash about, pressing closer to the glass, to something just out of reach.

  
Whatever the smoke was doing, it seemed to be triggered by the presence of a small pink and white flower, an almost disappointingly ordinary thing given the behavior its presence seemed to exhibit from the red smoke beside it. Aulus stood before the flower, looking at a magitek tablet in his hand. He had been running scans on it since they had relieved it from the wraith's possession. Something that had not been easily achieved. There were still blood stains on the floor, but until Aulus knew what he was dealing with he wasn't about to allow anyone inside to clean it up. At least the bodies had been taken care of, though the damage wreaked by the wraith was clear in the deep grooves along the walls, metal beams nearly cleaved in half by something sharper than steel. Of the three things to note in curiosity, the flower was probably the most bizarre. It showed the same readings as the wraith, and yet it held its shape as if it were fueled by something beyond the wraith's own abilities. The fixation the creature had on it was also quite intriguing. Empty and hollow sockets focused intently on the soft pink and white flower, one that was undoubtedly the national flower of the Garlean Empire. Aulus didn't understand the necessity of such a thing, but apparently it was a tradition carried over from generations long since passed.

  
The only thing he could conclude was that the flower was an extension of the wraith itself, and yet carried a signature unlike it at the same time. Perhaps some kind of object of focus, a preliminary attempt to sustain a feasible shape for long periods of time. Or perhaps it was something more. Whatever the matter was, he now had the time and equipment to study and experiment to his fullest desire. At least until some bumbling idiot grew tired of waiting for progress. They expected him to just shove the creature back into its shell, as if replacing a battery in an engine. It was not the same, and he didn't wish to risk the one piece he had left on his side of the board because he allowed some moron to rush him along. Science was an art, and he was nothing if not an artist.

  
He moved his attention from both the flower and the wraith and moved back towards the bed where Zenos' body lay. He was healing well, though there was the obvious issue of his... Aulus paused mid thought, looking back at the wraith. He realized then that he had no idea what to call it. It wasn't a soul, there was no thing as souls. So perhaps some manifestation of the prince's own aether manipulated by the mutation of the Resonant experiment. Not to say it was Zenos himself, but more like a recording of his aetheric fingerprint. It seemed to retain his memories, or a copy of them at least. All memories are, are patterns inscribed in the connections between the millions of neurons in your brain. Each memory has its unique pattern of activity, logged in the vast cellular network every time a memory is formed.

  
Realizing he had quite literally stopped what he was doing to ponder what is or is not a soul, and the science of memories, Aulus pushed his glasses up his nose and got back to work. His first order of business was to figure out what exactly was connecting the wraith to the body, and how to reverse the process. He didn't even know how the wraith first came into being, only that it simply had after the crash. Though he wasn't entirely sure what transpired in the events leaving up to the crash itself, he knew that whatever had resulted in the symbolic birth of the wraith was no doubt triggered by the Warrior of Light. The warrior was the only thing the wraith seemed to recognize, which might also explain the obsession with the flower. Perhaps it wasn't a focus item, but instead something more vital to his research. Taking his tablet back to the case holding the flower, the wraith having yet to move from the siding nearest to it, Aulus decided to start his research there. Perhaps if he could figure out the connection between the wraith and the warrior, he might make progress in figuring out how to put Zenos back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not only have I dragged Garbage Child (Asahi) into this story, I'm actually making him useful to the plot. He's still Zenos trash #1, even in this. Also, I'm not a very science-y person so forgive my obvious bullshitting in any scenes involving Aulus. Now, does it make me a bad person for feeling guilty that I took the wraith's flower away from him? I mean, science-boy needs to experiment but still...


	12. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We join the WoL after his vigilante escape from the House of the Fierce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Kuberis (aka @psionikubi on Tumblr). Thank you for the early birthday present and being a huge fucking nerd when it comes to this story. I appreciate the fuck out of you my friend.

The silence was blessed, a welcome reprieve from the catastrophe that was his daily life. But there was something unnatural about the silence. Something heavy. The Warrior's brow furrowed, his subconscious latching onto the idea that something wasn't right, that something was missing. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. Something was off, like he was forgetting something. It came to him as swiftly as the pounding headache as he bolted upright. Pain throbbed at his head, making him groan and cradle it in his hands. He remembered a brief moment of panic and fear, the bright sky above him and around him, and the ground coming up to meet him very quickly.

  
Biting back another groan of pain, the Warrior felt along his head and winced when his fingers brushed a rather impressive lump. No doubt from when he had fallen. But why had he fallen? The details were so hazy, but he was sure he did something stupid. Something unforgivable if Thancred and the others knew about it. Closing his eyes, the Warrior took a deep breath and tried to remember what happened, and how he ended up here. Wherever here was. Okay, he could do this, he just needed to work backwards. He fell, he knew that already. From where though? The sky... Or at least he was falling through the air for a brief moment before the ground got very acquainted with his whole being. So he fell a short distance, but how did he get there?

  
The urge to lie down dragged his sore and tired body back onto the cot he had woken up in. Rough-hewn and a little lumpy, definitely not the pinnacle of luxury. That wasn't what he needed to focus on right now though, he needed to retrace his steps. What happened before he fell, where did he come from that ended with him hitting the ground hard enough to... what, render him unconscious? Or had he been so exhausted that he hallucinated falling through the sky too? Maybe a good knock to the head was what he needed to shake all those false images from his mind, particularly images of a horrifying red wraith. Of all the things he's seen, voidsent and the like, that had to be one of the most unnerving creatures he's ever witnessed. Or thought he witnessed. Gods, was he going mad? Possibly, but that's what this was all for, wasn't it? To prove he wasn't insane, and to finally put a stop to all of this.

  
The memory of too many teeth, a mouth opening wide to scream in a way that it still echoed in his nightmares had him shuddering, but then pausing. He nearly bolted upright again, but the throbbing in his head kept him down. His nightmares. He hadn't had one, which was why waking up so... naturally had felt so wrong. The Warrior didn't want to be hopeful, but the thing about hope was that it was hard to contain. Whatever happened to him, he had been knocked clean out to the point where he hadn't even dreamed about the wraith, or about Zenos. Either of them, both of them. But weren't they the same person? In his mind they were at least. That's what made it so terrifying. A monster on the outside as much as he was inside.

  
Forcing himself to roll onto his side, the Warrior took in his surroundings without having to bring himself to sit up. Simple furnishings, the room looked well kept and potentially well lived in, which made him wonder where the owner of said room was. As if on cue, the sound of footsteps approached the door. Light, as if they were trying to be quiet. The door opened just as the Warrior was pushing himself into an upright position, with some difficulty. The world was spinning around him, but he managed to focus on the stranger before him. The woman was dressed simply in a hempen smock, smudges of dirt on the hem of it as well as along one of her cheeks told him that she was most likely digging dirt for some reason or another. Perhaps tending a garden. Her mousey brown hair was cut into blunt bangs across her forehead while the rest was wound into a slightly frizzy braid, and while she looked healthy and strong there were lines and signs of weather on her face that gave her a feeling of being older than what he would bet her age to be.

  
She looked surprised to see him awake, let alone sitting up, and made sure to keep her distance with her back to the open door before she spoke, carrying what appeared to be clothing in her hands. Her eyes were a blue-grey that regarded him with no small measure of caution before she finally closed them with a sigh to collect herself.

  
   "You're awake... That's good. I was beginning to worry when you were still unconscious after a day, but you did take a blow to the head when you fell." She said, walking over to him with a more sure footed step, setting the clothing down on a nearby chair before she backed away again towards the door. "You'll have to make do with those for now, the ones you were wearing were filthy, and I was not about to have you resting in my house smelling of something rank and rotting." She said, putting her hands on her hips as she met the stranger's bewildered look with a firm nod. "Well, up you get. There's food on the table if you're hungry. But make sure you put some pants on before you go gallivanting around. Not many neighbors around here but people do talk." She said, waving at the stranger before she went to serve up another bowl of potato stew.

  
The Warrior stared with no small amount of disbelief on his face before he registered just what she had said. To put some pants on. Looking down under the sheets covering his lower half, he felt his body flush and chill at the same time before he all but dove for the clothing on the chair, knocking his elbow against the night table beside the bed in the process. Ignoring the numb tingle spreading down his fingers, he struggled with the pants and nearly dropped them twice in his haste to get them on. The memory of hands sliding up his legs, a body above his. Heat between his legs... He yanked the pants up, noticing that they were slightly too short in the legs. Maybe hand-me-downs from the woman's son or husband... Pulling on the shirt with a little more care and control, he felt better once he was no longer in the nude. It wasn't much but having clothing on made him feel less vulnerable.

  
Rubbing his hands over his face as he collected himself, the Warrior took a slow and settling breath before he straightened his spine. First thing was first, find out where he was and figure out what happened. The woman said he had been out for over a day, so he needed to know just how much time passed since she picked him up. Finding his boots by the bed, he shoved his feet into them before following his nose through the rather humble home towards the kitchen. The strange woman looked up at him as she finished setting a second bowl of stew as well as a plate of thick wheat bread for dipping on the table.

  
   "Well, come on. It's not going to eat itself." She said as she hauled a deep pot back over to the wood burning stove to keep it warm. She took a seat but didn't start eating until the Warrior sat down across from her. She tore a piece of bread off and dipped it into her stew, shaking her head when he seemed to open his mouth to talk. "Eat first, then questions. You've been asleep for a while now boy, so get some food into your system already before you fall over." She said, waving the stew soaked bread piece at him like she was threatening to make him eat it. The moment the smell of the rich and warm potato stew hit the Warrior's nose, his stomach responded with a voracious growl, startling the owner of said stomach. The woman smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "There now, see? The body knows better than the mind sometimes." She said, biting into the now soggy bread with a pleased look. It wasn't until the Warrior scooped up some of the stew on his spoon and ate it that she fully relaxed, content for them to eat their fill in silence.

  
When both bowls were empty, and after the refusal of a third refill, the woman cleared the table and went to get the dishes soaking in the sink to wash up later. She seemed satisfied, though a little quiet as she filled a kettle with water and set it on to boil for tea or coffee depending on her guest's tastes. "Now then, you had questions." She said, stating it as a fact rather than asking. Gesturing to the Warrior, she approached a worn couch and a threadbare sitting chair set off to the side where the warmth of the wood stove would reach the space but also give it the illusion of being a separate space in the otherwise open floor plan. "Oh, forgive me. I never introduced myself. My name is Maeda. Maeda bas Doreus." She explained, recoiling a little when the stranger suddenly got to his feet with a wild look. She lifted her hands in a placating motion, showing that she wasn't armed. Something in his expression was wild, panicked. Like an animal trapped with no way out. "Calm down boy, if I was intending to harm you I would not have waited for you to regain consciousness before doing so." She said firmly, the tone of a woman who obviously had children and was used to any number of outbursts.

  
She waited until he had once again taken a cautious seat, though she didn't miss the wary gaze he was giving her. Maeda instead decided to bring his focus to something else, noticing the way that the pant legs and sleeves were just a little on the short side. Her chest squeezed, but she didn't let the emotion show on her face. "I apologize for the clothing. They belong... belonged... to my son. Yours were in a sorry state when I found you, but I'm no seamstress so it's been taking me a little longer to fix them up than I would like." She explained, getting up only when the kettle began to whistle. "Now I don't know if I've done something to you personally to warrant that reaction when you heard my name..." She said, stirring the boiled water into two sculpted mugs before adding them to a tray with a small pitcher of yak's milk and raw sugar and carrying them over to the end table next to the couch where it would be in reach for both of them before she smiled softly at him and brushed her bangs back from her head. "Or perhaps it has something to do with my being Garlean." She said, showing him her third eye for a brief moment before combing her bangs back into place and claiming one of the steaming mugs for herself, adding a little milk to the brew before taking a seat again.

  
Maeda watched the male for a moment before she chuckled softly and sat back in her seat. "Oh don't look so guilty, I'm not insulted. I suppose we have that reputation in other parts of the world. But know this, you're in no danger here." She explained, crossing her legs and getting comfortable. "Although you did crush a small section of my garden when you appeared out of thin air." She said, lifting a brow. "Do you remember how you ended up like that?" She prompted, sipping at her drink as she waited to hear what she believed would be an interesting story.

  
The Warrior frowned into his cup, holding it between his hands just to feel the warmth bleed into his palms. Everything felt like a jumbled mess in his head, but he supposed the easiest way to get all the facts in line was to actually retell the story of what he remembered so far. Though he didn't trust this Maeda woman, she was right in the fact that she hadn't given him any reason to think she would harm him. But she couldn't blame him for his suspicion. After he had left the House, he intended to head back to Ala Mhigo. To possibly talk to Krile or Ysh'tola about his dreams of the wraith. To find the source of why he was dreaming about it in the first place. But he knew that if he reached out to his friends, they would try to stop him in the same way Thancred did. He didn't know if they would believe him or not, but that feeling of being lost in his own head, not knowing what was reality or fiction... He would figure it out on his own if he had to.

  
Exhaustion had been his enemy, slowing his movements and hindering his progress in getting anywhere with a significant enough lead that Thancred and the others couldn't immediately close in on him. He knew he would cave if they caught up to him, and he would let them talk him into letting it go. Or maybe they would try to get involved, and he didn't think he wanted that. He didn't want them to revisit his weakest moments with him, though Thancred had been there for nearly all of them since he killed Zenos. The thought of the Garlean prince had calloused hands tightening around the cup in his hands, his subconscious barely registering when Maeva tugged it free from his grasp and went to refill it. He didn't know how or when, but somewhere down the road his mind had begun to play tricks on him, flashes of a field of flowers, blue eyes and a mouth pulled into a condescending smirk. He could see the field so clearly in his mind, as if he had physically been there himself instead of in a dream. It was a real place, it had to be a real place. So he did the only thing he could think of, and tried to teleport without anchoring to an aetheryte in the location he was traveling to. But he had been so sure that the place was real, with the crystal blue waters and the field of flowers. If he could just picture it clearly enough, then surely he would be able to make it.

  
But he didn't. He supposed he could count his blessings that he hadn't been completely destroyed by the act, and it seemed like all his parts were in working order. Though now that he was rested and his mind was clearer than it had been in months, he wanted to scream at how stupid he had been. He could have ended up in the middle of the ocean to drown, or plunging from a thousand yalms in the sky to his death. He was lucky that he seemed to only fall a short distance, despite the fact that he was now within enemy territory. But that had him pause to think, wondering aloud if the field of flowers from his dream was a place here, in the belly of the beast.

  
Maeda looked thoughtful for a moment, her finger tapping the side of her own cup in a slow and steady rhythm. She eventually nodded, though she looked apprehensive. "There used to be, a long time ago. Though the field I believe you're speaking of has long since been converted to a ceruleum plant, going on some twenty years or so." She explained, wondering how the male could possibly know of such a place when it appeared he had never once set foot in this land. Leaning forward to set her empty cup on the tray, she waited to see if the male wanted another refill before she took both cups and the tray to the sink as well to wash up. "If you're feeling up to it, come over here and help me dry these dishes and put them away. Need to get you up and moving a bit after three full days of sleep." She said, moving to hold out a thick rectangle of woven cotton to use as a dish towel when she caught the look on the male's face. Wide eyes, filled with disbelief and a little bit of panic, and it was with a sinking feeling Maeda realized she hadn't told him how long he had been unconscious for.

  
Clicking her tongue, she set the cloth down and turned away towards the sink, scrubbing at the dishes from dinner. "I apologize, I always seem to miss the important details. My son complains about it all the time, well he used to." She said, setting one of the bowls aside after she had scrubbed it clean, feeling it being tugged from her hand a moment later. Maeda let it go, offering him an apologetic smile before she shook her head and gestured at the nearly half full pot of stew from dinner. "It... hasn't been long since his passing. I'm still getting used to cooking for less people now." She explained, her smile turning a little lonely. "It was... nice to have some company, despite your current predicament."

  
The male only watched her silently, his gaze keen and making Maeda feel like he was looking at the most open and vulnerable part of her soul. She laughed it off, shaking her head. "You don't talk much, do you? I suppose I can appreciate that, though a little conversation would do an old woman some good." She said, handing off another dish to be dried and put away with a little direction.

  
Once the dishes were taken care of and the rest of the stew was stored away for a meal another day, Maeda all but ushered the stranger towards the bedroom he had woken up in. "Get some more rest, there will be plenty to do in the morning! Starting with helping me fix that garden patch you blundered into to!" She said, her tone scolding but not angry. She didn't miss the way the other flinched away from her touch in various parts of the night, as if he had some aversion to human contact. Questions burned, but she held her tongue. Whatever the boy's past was, it was none of her business unless he wished to make it so. With waving hands and subtle bumps here and there, she managed to escort him back to her son's room. His old room. Again her chest ached at the memory of him leaving that morning to head to work, to a week without any word from him. All the way to just a few days ago when someone came to tell her that they had found her son's body out on patrol, that he had been dead for nearly a week and that the animals had gotten to his body before they found him. That his face was nearly unrecognizable. Realizing that she had stopped moving and was being greeted by a questioning stare from her house guest, Maeda shook her head and plastered on a kind and simple smile. "Good night. If you need extra blankets, they should be in the chest at the foot of the bed. If you need me, just call for me." She said, wondering if she was overstepping some boundaries with her words. Instead she was answered with only a silent nod and a slowly closing door.

  
It wasn't until she was moving away to head to bed herself did she hear something significantly weighty sliding across the hardwood floor, coming to rest behind the door and effectively blocking it from being opened. Something heavy, much like the oak wood dresser her late husband had made by hand for their son. Giving one last concerned look to the closed door, Maeda suppressed a sigh and headed to bed herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not wraith smut (yet!!!), but there's story to be built up here! All the cookies to whoever can guess just who Maeda's son was.


	13. Forgotten Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We continue with the WoL after his unfortunate result of no sleep and terrible decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to everyone who's been with me through my bullshit depression lately. You have no idea how much I love and value you all, and it's thanks to that support this this fic has lasted as long as it has. Also, I'm actually surprised at how many of you liked Maeda when I first introduced her. I was honestly terrified because she's the first real OC that I've introduced in the story (aside from an ambiguous WoL). But no one's bitten my head off so I guess that means she doesn't totally suck? Woo!

Morning came the same as it always did. Quiet, with hints of moisture in the air that collected into dew on the grass. Maeda was up when the sun was, already up to her elbows in repairing the damage to her garden from her guest's unfortunate arrival. The young man was still locked away in her son's room, or what was now the guest room. Her chest squeezed, but she knew that nothing would get done if she sat down to cry about it now. She had mourned her loss, as she had for her beloved husband years before. But now it was just her, and her garden wasn't going to tend itself. Keeping busy kept her mind from drifting, gave her something to focus on.

  
The fence would have to be repaired to keep wildlife away from the young sprouts, but for now she settled for patching the hole with some wire and burlap interwoven between the broken slats to create a barrier. She then retrieved the woven basket hanging from the arbor for safe keeping that would serve as her vessel for transporting ripe vegetables from her garden to her kitchen. Her yuzu tree was calling to her to be harvested, the yellow fruit beckoning to be made into tea, jam and a cool citrus drink. She wondered if the stranger would enjoy yuzu, though she didn't know if the fruit was as accessible where he was from. Adding a little step stool to her gathering arsenal, she carried it over to the base of the tree and stepped onto it so she could reach the fruit. Tugging a small number of the citrus from its branches, she settled them carefully into her basket to avoid bruising before moving along to the rest of the ripened plants amid her garden.

  
About an hour later had her basket full of fresh fruits and vegetables from the garden. Enough for meals for the next few days. Any other ripened produce would be loaded into the wagon and taken to sell. Given the Empires' penchant for a more industrial construct, it was rather rare to get fresh grown fruits and vegetables outside of the palace. Everything was processed, meant to sustain a soldier through carefully measured rations instead of the bounty of nature itself. Maeda smiled to herself at the thought as she set the basket down on her counter and began to sort vegetables from fruit and bringing out the preparations for breakfast. Dinner would be leftover stew from last night, she certainly wasn't going to waste food now that there was another mouth to feed again.

  
Speaking of that mouth to feed, Maeda found herself turning towards the closed door curiously. She hadn't heard the male sneaking out, but then again if he really wanted to slip away she doubt she would know about it. But since there was only one way to know for certain if she still had a house guest, Maeda walked down the hall and knocked lightly on the door.

  
It took a moment, and the definite sound of something sliding across the solid wood floor, but the door eventually opened a crack with a suspicious eye peeking out through it. Maeda lifted a brow and put her hands on her hips as she took in the dark circles under that eye. Had the boy really not slept a wink last night? Despite her efforts to convince him that he was in no danger here. Though she supposed she couldn't blame him, a part of her was still insulted. They stared at each other for another moment in silence before she lifted her other brow and tilted her head at the stranger. "Good morning. Breakfast isn't going to make itself, so come on out." She said, turning to head back down the hall towards the kitchen. "And put that dresser back where you found it! I have enough difficulty navigating my own home without you rearranging furniture on me." She called back over her shoulder, hearing nothing for a moment before that heavy dragging sound chased her on her way down the hall.

  
Breakfast was always the best way to start a day off right, so Maeda started with making some rich oatmeal with a little honey and some dried currants for protein before moving on to eggs cooked sunny side up and some toasted home made bread cut thickly and spread with churned butter and a little more honey. Though Maeda rarely ate meat, she never found she lacked the strength that many professed came from the flesh of a once living creature. She didn't think she could stomach the slaughter herself, so she never raised livestock for the sake of eating. Movement behind her signaled Maeda to the cautious approach of the stranger, of whom she had yet to learn the name of. All in a matter of time, the boy was like a skittish foal now, she wouldn't try to rush him before he showed he was willing to trust her.

  
   "Can you put the kettle on to boil please?" She asked without turning around, still stirring the pot of thick porridge with a look of deliberate concentration. Not that it needed much tending to but it might help the stranger to relax if she weren't staring at him so often. "And take the yuzu, the bright yellow fruit there, cut it in half and slice it thinly. We're going to make tea." She explained, pointing to where she already had a cutting board and knife set out. A show of trust she hoped, to arm a potential threat. Though there was something in his eyes that told her that she could hand him a sword and he would not turn it against her. She didn't know where this blind faith was coming from, but perhaps she was getting senile in her middle age. Smiling at her own joke, she took the pot off the heat and began to serve the individual components into two servings. Again she found that she had made far too much, though it was less so than the stew the night before.

  
When she didn't hear movement, Maeda turned around to find the male still standing in the entrance to the kitchen, staring at her as if she had grown two heads. Maeda stared back, wondering just what was going through the boy's mind before she pointed at the kettle she had used yesterday. "Water, for tea." She said, wondering if the lad had ever boiled water before. The minute he moved it was as if he had to jerk himself out of his own thoughts and tell his body to get going. Maeda found herself watching him despite her earlier attempts at avoiding that exact thing. She carried their breakfast to the small table tucked under the window with two seats on either side. It was a little more formal than the night before when they had eaten seated comfortably on the couch, but with so much food she didn't want to risk spilling it everywhere. At least the stranger had figured out how to fill the kettle and get it settled where the water would boil by the time she finished setting the table.

   "That's a good lad. Now sit down and eat before your food gets cold." She said, moving back to her cutting board and skillfully slicing up the freshly picked citrus fruit. She remembered her husband bringing back the odd sapling, talking about how it came from a land across the sea, and how there was no other fruit tree like it in all of Garlemald. Though it had nearly died a number of times over the years, the fresh sea air from the coast in the distance seemed to breath fresh life into it. Once she had sliced the fruit up and removed the seeds, she proceeded to add some finely ground raw sugar to it and mix it about until it became sticky. By this point the water had boiled and the tea was ready to be served.

  
Bringing two steaming mugs to the table, she set one down in front of her house guest and took the seat across from him. She didn't waste time in digging into her breakfast, she had things to do before the sun got too high in the sky and the weather grew too warm to be outside for long hours on end. Taking a sip of the fresh citrus tea, she used her spoon to scoop out some of the fruit, rind and all, and ate it. The odd look she got only prompted her to do it again, crunching down on the sweet and sour rind with no small amount of amusement in her gaze. It got the result she desired, for a moment later the lad was following suit and looking surprised at the tangy sweetness that coated the inside of his mouth a moment later. Offering him a slow smile, she went back to eating the rest of her breakfast in comfort and peace.

  
As she was gathering the dishes to wash up, Maeda eyed her house guest for a moment before nodding her head towards the window where the broken fence could be seen. "Are you any use with a hammer and some nails?" She asked, though she didn't doubt there would probably be more needed to repair the mess. The male did an odd half shrug, and Maeda wasn't sure if she could take that as denial or confirmation. Deciding that if the boy didn't know how to fix a fence, then he surely would learn by the end of the day, Maeda hummed and carried the dishes to the sink. "Don't just sit there gawking lad. I cooked, you clean." She said firmly, tilting her head curiously at the way the male seemed to jump up to help her the minute she requested his aid. It was... odd in an endearing way. But also a little concerning. Did this strange young man just help people willy-nilly whenever they demanded it from them? But given his rather quiet demeanor since they met, she had a feeling he didn't do as much complaining as she expected someone else would if they were in his shoes.

  
He moved automatically, filling the sink like she had the night before to wash the dishes from dinner. Satisfied to let him do his part, Maeda packed away the remainder of the sliced yuzu and sugar mixture, pausing when she heard a soft sound of disappointment behind her. Looking over to see the male look away almost guiltily, a smile stretched across her lips and a chuckle rippled free. "One more glass, then we get to work." She remarked, already preparing two more cups of the citrus tea before she packed away the remainder to chill for later. It made an excellent beverage, both hot and cold. Once the dishes were done and their cups long since emptied of tea, Maeda wasted no more time in dragging the poor boy out into the bright morning sun to get to work in helping her fix the fence, determined to give the lad a distraction and wear him out so that when night came he would actually wish to sleep instead of lying in wait for some attack that would never come all night long.

  
It took two days before the young man told her his name, and two more before he finally stopped dragging that heavy armoire across the floor to block the doorway from potential attackers in the night. It helped to find a pattern with him, to give him a task to do each day to keep his hands busy so his mind wouldn't wander. Every morning Maeda would wake up, see to her garden and harvest her produce before going to wake her house guest for the day. She found he was more quickly to emerge from the bedroom if she wasn't standing outside the door so she settled for simply calling his name from down the hall and setting to work on making their breakfast for that morning. While he was an enigma, Maeda didn't push him for details on who he was or where he came from, or why he had fallen out of the sky into her garden. While she hoped he would divulge this information in time, it was difficult to be patient and curb her curiosity.

  
The lad had yet to lose the wild look in his eyes, though she was pleased to note that his complexion was faring better and the dark circles under his eyes no longer seem so pronounced. But even still he remained as skittish as a woodland creature, refusing to allow her to walk behind him and consistently lingering towards exits. Perhaps it was asking too much to be trusted by a perfect stranger, but she was trying her best. Though he seemed quite taken with the tea made from the yuzu tree, and it had become a pattern for them to share a cup or two before starting their day. It was nice to have a second set of hands around as well, the young man was quite proficient in whatever task she asked of him, as if he took to it by second nature. Though she often called him young man or lad in her head, it was hard to gauge just how old he was. But Maeda supposed when you get to her age everyone seems like a young sprout whether they were children or grown adults with children of their own. The woman dismissed the thought before it could fester into something painful as she served up their breakfast. The table had already been set before she could even think to request it, no doubt a silent way of thanking her for cooking all the meals they ate together.

  
Taking her seat, Maeda was about to begin eating when she heard her name spoken in a low tone. Looking up in surprise, the older woman waited patiently for whatever words would follow. Of the few conversations she had managed to wrangle out of him since that first night after he awoke, Maeda learned that while he didn't say much in the presence of others, it didn't mean he had nothing to say. It just meant that when he did say something it was something worth giving your full attention to.

  
The Warrior let the pause hang in the air, the tension growing thicker the longer he said nothing. But his thoughts were a whirl, still trying to wrap his head around what his reality was at this moment. But he had been putting off asking for days now, afraid that the woman might not be so kindly and instead trying to stall for time for some nefarious plan. But no matter how he guarded himself, the nights he fought to lay awake in wait only to surrender to the weariness from a day of hard work, no matter how prepared he believed himself to be for an attack, one never came. It was both a relief and also alarming to think for the first time in quite a while he was actually given reprieve to... relax. The nightmares had stopped, the visage of that hellish red ghoul leaving him in peace for days. A part of him wanted to hope that it was the blow to the head from falling that had shaken the specter loose from his conscious, but he knew better than to believe such things. But what was the Warrior of Light if not a damnable beacon of unfettered hope?

  
But his journey here, while on accident, still retained its purpose. He knew he wasn't simply imagining that red ghost, it was too vivid too often. He could almost feel long gnarled fingers on his skin when it touched him, the dry chill against his skin as it wound around him in dream after dream. Nightmare after nightmare. But it was the flower, so innocent and delicate, that gave him the proof he needed. Holding up a finger to tell Maeda to wait, the Warrior wasted no time in heading through the kitchen, down the hall and into the borrowed bedroom. For a moment he panicked, afraid that the flower had vanished when he stopped having the dreams. It was both a blessing of relief and a curse of dismay when he produced the delicate pink and white flower. Still pristine despite the fact that it should have long since wilted and dried up. Carrying it cupped in his hand as if he subconsciously knew to be careful with it, the Warrior brought the flower back to the woman still sitting at the table with a bewildered and concerned expression.

  
Ever so slowly he offered his hands out, the flower cupped in his palms carefully. The woman's brows rose and disappeared behind the blunt cut of her bangs, and her knowledge of his aversion of touch had her preventing herself from reaching out to touch the innocent looking petals. Licking his lips, the Warrior tried to explain where the flower came from, only to realize a few words in that he still didn't know the real story. So instead he talked about a field full of them, scattered before a crystal clear and still lake. Mountains reaching up to a blue sky and... a man. No, not a man but a monster. A horrifying monster in his dreams. He needed to find the monster, and kill it.

  
Maeda nodded, remembering him mentioning the field from the first night they spoke. "But that field became a ceruleum plant some time ago lad, I've told you this." She explained, taking a slow sip of her tea as she met the earnest gaze of the young man holding a familiar pink and white flower as if it were made of glass. She remembered stories from her grandmother of fields of lush green grass and beautiful flowers. Of bright skies and clear waters. But now everything was an industry, with dark metal cutting across landscapes, the land's resources plundered towards the progression of the Garlean Empire. Perhaps that was why Maeda favored her simplistic life surrounded by the nature of things she grew with her own two hands. Maybe a part of her had known all along that she wasn't one to belong.

  
It was that look that finally had her letting out a sigh and setting her cup of tea down on the table. That silent request for help, and she knew that if she didn't agree then he would no doubt wander off on his own to find a place that just simply didn't exist anymore. "Oh very well then. Now sit down and finish your breakfast before it gets cold. If you're so determined to see it for yourself, I will show you the way." She said with no small measure of exasperated defeat in her tone. Looking relieved, if not a little pleased with himself, the strange young man took a seat again, the flower finding itself being tucked away in the folds of his borrowed clothes. Maeda made herself a reminder to finish mending the lad's clothes that night after they returned.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

   "Fascinating." Aulus murmured, his eyes wide and his mouth positively beaming at the results on the screen before him. Blue text nearly too bright in the dim lighting of the lab flickered across the screen, images scrolling past as eager fingers tapped away at the keys. Nearly two weeks since their return to the palace and the man had barely even left the four walls that currently surrounded him. Though there had been some changes in security and furnishings in the last couple of days, the most recent of which being a piece of paper taped to a reinforced containment unit with the words 'Time Out' written in neat script. Aulus looked back at the sign with no small measure of amusement, even as the wraith inside writhed and beat against the glass. Even still as days passed, the wraith refused to move away from the side of its containment nearest to the flower. It was the strangest thing, a scientific anomaly that made something in his body quiver in anticipation.

  
While there were any number of tests yet to try on the flower itself, they had discovered very early on that the flower itself was attached to the wraith at a molecular level. Anything they did to the flower was replicated on the wraith's body. Or what counted for its body at least. Determined to push the limits, it seemed to be too far when Aulus began to pull at one of the delicate petals of the flower with the intention of running further sample tests. In what he was equating to instinct or sheer luck, Aulus had scrambled out of the way as the wraith shattered the glass of the containment unit it had been housed in previously and slashed at him with a horrifying screech. Though it seemed the moment he was away from the flower the wraith no longer cared if he was a threat, instead opting to reach out for the flower with a sad and lonely croon. It was the wraith's sudden diverted attention that allowed Aulus to summon a number of guards to the lab to handle getting the wraith incapacitated while a far more reinforced and refined containment unit was prepared for it.

  
   "Simply fascinating." He continued to murmur, turning away from the screen to look at the flower itself. The wraith's reaction to the flower, the obsessive way it seemed to react to it got Aulus to thinking about the odd way his Lord Zenos had acted after that first battle with the Warrior of Light. Like a man possessed. While it looked like any normal, harmless flower, the energy readings off of it were impressive to note. Like the wraith had cut a part of its own physical form and shaped it to imitate a flower. Though Aulus had no general idea what could have possibly been the reason for such an act, the more tests he ran the more intrigued he became. For the flower wasn't feeding off the wraith's energy. It was as if it had become an entity entirely of its own, and it wasn't the only one. It was faint, so faint that the scanners had nearly missed it the first time, but the flower itself was putting off small micro bursts of energy. Barely noticeable during the day, but by night the activity increased in rapid succession, and the wraith seemed to become more agitated. Hissing and spitting like a wild animal and clawing at the reinforced glass as if desperate to reach it.

  
But the most interesting thing now was that the small pulses of energy had increased yet again to a steady stream. As if whatever it was connected to was sending a signal back... or had moved within range. It had only been within the last week, but before when the strain of energy had been too weak and sporadic to reliably trace, Aulus was confident that now they would have the a strong enough signal to track and locate whatever it was that this flower seemed to be connected to. All he would need to do is find a way build an array to follow the signal, and someone decently competent but otherwise expendable to track it down. Feeling an idea spring to mind, Aulus walked over to the door of the lab and pulled it open enough to peer out. The bright light on the other side of that door made his eyes burn and water, but he ignored it and leveled the skittish guard on the other side with a look. "Send word to Ambassador Asahi sas Brutus that his presence is required at my lab. Tell him that Lord Zenos requires his assistance... at his earliest convenience." Aulus said, closing the door again before the guard could see what lay within the dimly lit interiors of his lab before turning on his heel and returning to his research, feeling positively tingly all the way down to his toes. The boy's own obsession with Lord Zenos was on par to the wraith and its flower. But his over eagerness to please would no doubt deliver swift results, and an even swifter appearance to carry out his Lord's whim and wish. Which meant that Aulus should get to work on building that array before he arrived...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for anyone who has no idea what yuzu is, or what I'm talking about in general, the fruit is also called yuja in Korean cuisine. But it's a Japanese citrus fruit that is very popular and often made into a tea called yujacha, which you can get in some (if not most) Korean grocers. It's like if a lemon and an orange had a baby, and a grapefruit and a lime had a baby, then those babies had a baby. If you've never tried yujacha before, I highly recommend it.


	14. Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month? I'm really spoiling you guys. Kidding, totally kidding. But seriously though I must be on drugs.

There was once a time where Garlemald had been lush and green, with clear rivers cutting its way naturally through the earth. But over time, construction had taken over the overgrown beauty of the land and in the place of trees were towering vigils and industries. Where there once was rivers were now pipelines and fluid ducts to transport the ceruleum that acted as a fuel source for their machinery and city. Travel was difficult these days, as most lower class citizens couldn't afford transportation and the size of Garlemald was so vast that many of them rarely ventured from their homes unless it was required for them to go shopping. Though even then that was a rare occurrence. If you had the money to spare, then you were no doubt doing something shady on the side and were to be subjected to wary stares and whispered comments behind your back. It was why Maeda herself never made her way into the city, but their destination would be a long trip to walk and her son had left with the cart the morning he disappeared, leaving her without a method to deliver her goods. It was something she would have to deal with in the future, for now she had more pressing matters at hand.

  
Her companion was silent, even more so than usual. He had his hood pulled up over his head and he was keeping his gaze averted, maintaining distance from people. Everything in his body language screamed that he didn't want to be noticed and it made her wonder just how many enemies the lad had in the city. Was he even from Garlemald? Given his garments when he arrived, Maeda determined that he wasn't, which meant that he was from outside the border. Which also meant that he very well might have a target on his back if someone here was looking for him. She handed the coachman the gil discreetly, giving him a destination close to their true goal without giving it away entirely. She didn't know if they would be followed, but with the paranoid way her house guest was acting she figured it would be best to be safe than sorry. Besides, he had offered to pay for the transportation fee, so she was more than willing to take care of any arrangements required.

  
Opening the door, she allowed her silent companion to get into the carriage first, the metal warmed by the sun under her fingertips. She never liked these machines, but they were the only method of travel unless you walked or possessed a creature that would carry you to wherever you wanted to go. It was more like a box of metal, with open windows covered in light cotton cloth to block out wind and dust, with a small compartment in front where the driver sat to control the vehicle. The inside of said vehicle was a little more cramped than she had been expecting, and it required even her stout frame to sit at an angle to avoid kicking her travel partner in the shins. The box rattled slightly as the door was closed and latched behind them, and there was never a moment before this that Maeda understood how a casserole felt when it was placed into an oven. Due to the metal exterior and cotton-covered windows, the air inside was rather muggy and warm, and it was barely a minute before she began to feel sweat bead along her forehead. Huffing softly, Maeda waved her hand in front of her face for a small breeze, looking wistfully at the cotton over the windows. She would like to pull them back and get some fresh air, but she could tell by the male's body language across from her that he would prefer they stayed closed until they were out of the city. He hadn't even pushed the hood off of his head despite the fact that they now had privacy, his arms crossed over his chest as he sat tensely in his seat.

  
Maeda offered him a small smile, reaching out with her foot to nudge his shin to get his attention. "You're going to make your shoulders all stiff with how tense you are, and then who will help me reach things on the top shelf?" She teased, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work to a degree, since the male offered her a light smile and uncrossed his arms to appease her. Nodding in satisfaction, Maeda sat back in the rather lumpy seat and waved her hand a little faster so she could feel the breeze again for a brief moment of relief.

  
A mumbled apology brought her surprised gaze back to him again, her head tilting for a brief moment before she realized what he was apologizing for. It was at his insistence that they were even on this trip in the first place, his desperation to see a flower field that no longer existed fueling the need to go. She waved off the apology, but didn't outright refuse to accept it. He might give her that look again that reminded her of a lost puppy. She remembered being on the receiving end of that look a few days ago when she had refused his help for something and reassured him that she could handle it herself. He had stood there looking so awkward and lost that eventually she had given him a task so his hands could remain busy. It was endearing in a way, if a little troubling.

  
A sudden breeze that was not created by her waving hand made Maeda jump a little in surprise, looking over to see that her travel companion had pushed the cotton covering aside and let fresh air fill the interior, flushing out the muggy heat. Maeda sighed in relief, leaning towards the opening and tried to get as comfortable as she could in the strange vehicle. It rumbled under and around them, sometimes so loudly that she worried that it would shake apart and leave them stranded between their destination and the city. The silence that followed was companionable, if a little heavy. She could tell the lad's thoughts were a turmoil, but she didn't want to push for him to talk about it. She did find it curious though that he had produced the small flower he had shown her before from the depths of the light cloak she had loaned him to wear. She couldn't see his expression from the hood, but the set of his mouth was pursed and slightly down turned as if he were puzzled or perplexed by the flower in his hands. He held it carefully though, continuously touching the delicate petals as if reminding himself that it was still there. Every time he touched the flower his lips would purse a little more, the corners dropping a little more until he was downright scowling at it. His hand would tighten for a brief moment, as if contemplating crushing the flower before he went back to prodding it carefully with the tip of a finger.

  
"How have you been sleeping lately?" She asked out of the blue, making the male jump. He looked at her, his eyes bewildered before flashing to something more guarded. Maeda hummed and looked out the window to the passing landscape. "Don't give me that look boy. I'm old, not blind." She said, though she honestly wouldn't be older than the lad's mother. Sometimes she felt older than her years though. "The dark circles under your eyes have faded, and you no longer look like you're about to collapse if a stiff breeze blew past you. Are you sleeping better?" She asked, looking at him again. This time she stared at him until she got a slightly jerky nod in response. Maeda smile, returning the nod with one of her own. "Good." She said, letting the conversation drop there despite there not really having been a conversation at all. She knew that he suffered from nightmares, and yet it appeared that since his arrival at her home he hadn't been experiencing them. Maeda wasn't one to buy into the whole idea that dreams had secret meanings, but the fact that the lad had been dreaming of a place he swore he had never seen in person had her questioning what else about his dreams took place in reality. It got her thinking about the monster he told her about, or was it a man who acted like a monster? Maybe both, people could hide the ugliest of truths behind the nicest masks. What would they find when they got there though? Maeda didn't know if they would find anything, but it was that possibility of finding something that made her stomach twist anxiously.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

Quick but light footsteps echoed down the hall, denoting a sense of urgency to each footfall. The cause of said footsteps was tugging at his crisp white uniform, brushing a hand over his hair and trying not to rush but merely hurry. As much as it irked him to be summoned by some lowly scientist, Aulus mal Asina is one of the few in the entire Empire who had a notable relationship with Lord Zenos, even going as far as to say that the Garlean Prince respected his work. Asahi's lip curled at the thought of someone squandering his lord's respect in the way the scientist seemed to. Aulus was arrogant in a way that grated on his nerves. He should be groveling out of gratefulness that their prince had such interest in his experiments. But ever since the rebellion at Ala Mhigo, and the crash of the ship escorting Lord Zenos to safety, it seemed as if Aulus mal Asina had forgotten his place. Since his return he had been barking orders left and right, even going so far as to bar any visitors from seeing their prince after his return.

  
Well, that had changed now, since their prince had summoned him. Well, technically it was that insolent scientist that had summoned him, but on the request that his Lord Zenos required his services. As an ambassador for the Garlean Empire, Asahi had duties that he should be attending to that he had dropped for the sake of heeding his lord's call. While he expected that there would be some disrest about him shirking his duties, he would request a pardon due to the fact that he was attending to a much more dire matter. His aide was by his side as usual, watching the rather flustered young man try not to run like a dog after a ball. Each time a slim hand reached to fix dark hair or tug at a pristine uniform, Maxima found his faith in the young ambassador failing just a little more. He knew what a cunning strategist and combatant the young man could be, but the moment the Lord Zenos' name came into mention it was as if he were a starved hound being taunted by a piece of rare meat, desperate to get a taste.

  
By the time they reached the lab doors, still shut despite it having been two weeks since their return, Maxima worried that Asahi might have given himself a bald spot given how many times he fixed and touched his hair to ensure it was just right before his audience with Lord Zenos. Maxima fixed a curious look at the guard, who avoided his gaze and simply knocked on the door to alert those inside to their arrival.

  
   "Sir, Ambassador Asahi sas Brutus has arrived." The guard said in a low tone, stepping away from the door as it opened and a pale face appeared from the dim room beyond. Asahi didn't even bother to hide the sneer of contempt on his face at the sight of the scientist. Though he couldn't expect the prince to open doors himself. That's what servants were for.

  
Aulus looked between the guard, Asahi and Maxima before pointing at the young man in white. "Just you." He said, also in a low tone. Probably to ensure secrecy, for sound did have a tendency to travel in the halls of the palace. Asahi scowled at him, a mirror frown settling on Maxima's face as they both stared at Aulus. But the lavender-haired Garlean wouldn't budge, simply staring at Asahi until the young man started to feel uncomfortable. Like an insect being inspected up close. Eventually Asahi gave in, waving for Maxima to wait for him outside, which the other did reluctantly. Maxima simply strode across the hall and leaned against the opposing wall with his arms folded across his chest in a mimicry of a relaxed and casual pose. Aulus ignored him and opened the door only a fraction more before moving aside. Feeling irritated at the lack of respect for even opening a door properly, Asahi made no effort to contain the glare he shot the scientist as he was forced to squeeze past him. The minute he was inside the lab, Asahi wrinkled his nose. It stank of blood, body odor and something else, and immediately he wanted to be as far from it as possible.

  
Without giving any thought to the objects on the room, aside from a curious glance towards what seemed to be swirling red smoke in a tube, Asahi made a beeline for the medical bed in the corner that surrounded by a copious amount of machinery. Asahi refused to admit that he had no idea what any of it was for. His heart was pounding in his chest at the first glimpse of long strawberry blond hair against soft white pillows and immediately he knelt out of respect. Bowing his head, Asahi was proud when his voice didn't shake his excitement over the idea of having a task issued to him by Lord Zenos himself.

  
   "My Lord, I came as swiftly as I could. How may I be of service?" Asahi said, waiting for his prince to issue him his orders. Whatever the task, he would do whatever it takes to complete it. When no orders came, Asahi tried not to feel intimidated. Perhaps his Lord was sizing him up, trying to test his capability of handling such a sensitive issue. He should keep his head lowered out of respect and wait for instruction. But a minute passed, then two in complete silence. Asahi forced himself not to fidget. "My Lord... I am here to serve you in any capacity. Know that my loyalty to you and the Empire is without question, and I will stop at nothing to accomplish whatever it is you ask of me." He said, but still nothing. Aside from the hum and occasional beep of the machines, his Lord still did not speak. Asahi fell silent again, wondering just how long Lord Zenos planned to test him.

  
   "... Pft."

  
The sudden snort, followed by smothered snickers had Asahi's head jerking up, alarmed to think that his Lord was laughing at him. But the noise had come from behind him, and he quickly looked back to give the scientist a venomous glare.

  
   "Is there something amusing to you about sworn loyalty to the Garlean Empire?" Asahi hissed at him. Aulus gave him an unimpressed look that quickly became highly amused as he shook his head.

  
   "Of course not, but you realize you've just wasted that little speech on an empty husk." He said, walking over to the massive tube of creeping smoke as it gathered to one side again. Asahi looked towards the figure in the bed in a panic before scrambling gracelessly to his feet. He looked upon the prince's face, noting the pale skin and closed eyes. The complete lack of a reaction to anything that was said. Again the machine nearest to him beeped, and if Asahi wasn't so unsure of what its purpose was, he would break it for daring to make a sound. Asahi reached out, but he wasn't sure if he was permitted to touch. He could lose his hand for daring to lay it on the crowned prince. But he wanted to prove the damned scientist wrong, that his Lord would open his eyes and prove him wrong. That he wasn't just an... what had Aulus said? An empty husk?

  
   "What is the meaning of this?" He all but snarled, turning on Aulus and stalking over. The scientist gave a wary glance to the blade hanging at Asahi's hip, and for a moment the slim male debated cutting the Garlean down where he stood. But that wouldn't give him the answers he was seeking. "I was summoned because Lord Zenos required my assistance!" He said, gesturing to the still figure in the bed. "Yet my Lord is not awake, and you dare say he is a... a husk!" He shouted, his hand moving to the sword at his side as if to draw it. "You will tell me what is going on." He threatened. That wasn't his Lord in that bed, that sickly and frail looking man. Despite the towering height he still possessed, Asahi had never seem him appear so... weak.

  
Aulus looked between the belligerent child and the weapon he possessed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He was getting tired of all these emotional responses. They weren't nearly as interesting as everyone seemed to think they were. "While you are correct, you were summoned because he requires your assistance there is something I feel the need to correct you on. That is not Lord Zenos yae Galvus," Aulus said, knocking on the reinforced containment unit beside him and causing the mist inside to spin erratically, "This is." He finished, a skeletal face with empty void for eyes and a massive mouth gaping as if trapped in a silent scream materialized out of the mass of blood red mist. Fingers almost disproportionately long and twisted scratched at the glass, clawing to get out. But it was only there for a moment, pressing against the glass and gnashing at the intruders with an empty black gaze, yet Asahi could almost feel the eyes on him as if he were an insignificant insect that it wanted to pull the wings and legs off like a naughty child in the garden. A moment later it was gone, swirling back into a form of red mist back to the other side of the tube near yet another object Asahi had deemed unimportant upon his entry. A flower encased in glass and metal, attached to some strange contraption with a screen that looked oddly like a ship's scavenged radar system.

  
Asahi stared, his entire being frozen stiff at the horrifying creature as his mind went blank. What manner of monster was this? Some form of primal, or perhaps a voidsent? What kind of accursed experiments was this deranged man conducting on the prince in this filthy lab and how it is that he has been allowed to continue to this point!? Asahi drew his blade, brandishing it in Aulus' direction. He would subdue the mad man and order Maxima to bring the authorities! Then they would find a real doctor to tend to his Lord's injuries and wake him up! "For crimes against the Empire and the crowned prince himself, I, Asahi sas Brutus, hereby arrest you for--nngh!" Asahi began, barely having the chance to realize his mistake when Aulus pulled out some kind of hand gun and pointed it at him. But instead of it being bullets, two prongs shot out of the end connected by coiled cable to the barrel of the gun itself. In a brief moment, Asahi's entire body lit up with pain and every muscle in it tensed up in reflex, rendering him unable to move. His sword slipped out of his fingers and clattered to the floor as his body convulsed and tightened up painfully. Aulus didn't let up until Asahi was on the ground twitching, finally removing his finger from the trigger and giving the young man a chance to breathe.

  
Aulus stared at Asahi for a moment, cataloging the immediate physical symptoms displayed by him before humming in satisfaction. "You were saying?" He asked conversationally, getting a heated glare from the floor.

  
   "I hereby arrest you f-for--GAH!" Asahi started again, yelping when Aulus pressed the trigger again and his body went right back to that painfully tight state. The scientist held it for a moment longer than necessary before he once again released the trigger and nudged the sword out of Asahi's reach with his foot. He just liked seeing the look on his face when his body lit up with all that electricity. Aulus hadn't yet had a chance to test his new device on a live subject, so he was at least thankful that the voltage wasn't high enough to render someone's brain to gelatin.

  
   "That's what I thought. Now, if you're done grand standing over something you clearly don't understand..." Aulus said, tugging on the cables so they detached from Asahi's chest and twisted a small crank to wind them back up for the next shot he takes. If there needed to be one. Asahi had to take a moment to regain coordination in his limbs before he managed to stagger to his feet again. He didn't go for his sword, not wanting to be subjected to that feeling for a third time. Aulus noticed and didn't bother hiding the smug look on his face before he gestured to the glass containment tube again. "This is Lord Zenos yae Galvus. Or at least, the physical representation of what some people would call a... Well, I guess a soul. The result of one's highly condensed aether and no small helping of Resonant experimentation. There's more to it but I won't bore you with anything you won't understand." Aulus said with a little smirk, always enjoying being the most intelligent person in the room. "But you did say you were here to serve the prince in any capacity, and even swore your undying loyalty to him and the Empire..." Aulus said, walking over to the flower and reaching for the strange device it was contained in. The minute he picked it up, the mist started to move and lash about again, pressing against the side of the tube as if drawn to the item.

  
   "This flower is sending out a signal. It was weak at first, but has since increased in strength to the point where I'm able to track it. Or well, you will to be able to track it. I need you to locate whatever this flower is connected to and bring it back here to me. I believe whatever it is may be the answer I need to reconnect Lord Zenos' aether with his physical container." Aulus explained, holding the device out towards Asahi.

  
The young man collected his sword, sheathing it slowly before he gave the lavender-haired man a wary look, not wanting to get near him in case he pulled out that damned weapon again and repeated that humiliating display. "You wish you return our Lord's soul to his body?" Asahi asked.

  
Aulus fought the urge to roll his eyes at the question, merely keeping his expression measured and focused. "Yes." He said plainly, once again offering the device. While it would be a shame to forfeit the flower to this task, he had gathered enough information about it that he could continue his research without requiring it anymore.

  
Asahi gave the device a wary look before he reached out to accept it, feeling surprised at how heavy it actually felt. The moment he had it in his possession, the flower seemed to pulse. It was brief, but the reaction was immediate. The wraith inside the glass tank shrieked, clawing at the sides, slamming against the reinforced enclosure as if possessed. The flower pulsed again, and that time Asahi heard it. Like a heartbeat. Again, and the wraith seemed to go berserk, trying to free itself from containment. Asahi jumped, nearly dropping the device out of surprise as Aulus turned to watch the wraith in awe.

  
   "Fascinating." The scientist murmured, watching the red mist contort and twist, gnarled fingers scratching, hands beating against the glass prison. Aulus slipped his glasses off, cleaning the lenses with the hem of a shirt that could use a washing as he stared at the reaction of the creature as if captivated by it. "Simply fascinating." He repeated.

  
Asahi looked at the flower, watching it pulse softly inside the glass chamber. Two quick beats, then another. Getting steadily faster as if it were alive, as if it truly did have a heartbeat. "What's fascinating?" Asahi asked, unnerved by the events that followed his summons to the lab.

  
Aulus blinked, looking surprised to find him still standing there. He looked down at the flower, then back to the wraith practically tearing itself apart to get to it. "Nothing. You can go now." Aulus murmured, eager to see the reaction of the creature once the flower was out of its field of view.

  
Asahi waited for a moment longer before he realized that he was going to be ignored for however long he stood there. Fixing a scowl on his face, Asahi turned and stomped towards the door with the device still in hand. The wail that followed him out was haunting, desperate and broken, silencing the moment the door shut tight behind him.

  
Maxima looked at him in surprise, having heard the wailing the moment Asahi had exited the lab, only for it to be silenced by the heavy, soundproofed door that closed behind him. The young man was pale, looked like he had been through all manner of distress, and he quickly refrained from pointing out that the hair Asahi had so meticulously perfected was now clinging limply to his forehead and cheeks as if he were covered in sweat. The young Ambassador was holding something in his arms. A device that appeared to be encasing a pink and white flower that gave off soft pulsing glows every few seconds. Maxima cleared his throat to get Asahi's attention, since the other looked out of sorts still.

  
   "May I ask... What happened in there? What is that?" He asked, motioning to the device in Asahi's hand. The young man looked down at it as if he forgot he was even holding it.

  
   "Honestly... I have no idea." Asahi replied rather plainly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just tase Asahi? You bet your sweet ass I did. And I enjoyed every minute of it. Also I have no idea if any of these characters are in character anymore.


	15. Once Upon A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeda and the Warrior investigate the location from his dream. What will he find when they get there? A field of flowers housing a monster, or more questions without answers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, sometimes I worry that people's interest in this story has died off because it takes me so long to write updates. Hopefully I can get people excited for an update with this chapter.

The atmosphere grew heavier the longer the trip stretched on in front of them. Maeda would cast quiet looks towards her silent companion only to find him staring blankly out the small carriage window as if in deep thought. They hadn't said much since she had asked him how he's been sleeping, and aside from a stilted nod there had been very little response. She wondered what was going through his head, wanting to ask but worried about overstepping boundaries. Eventually the older woman just let it drop, instead turning her attention to the window as well. The sky outside had gone from a clear and brilliant blue to a darkened ashy tone. Streaked with smokey purple from ceruleum pollution, the sky and the surrounding area around it seemed lifeless and desolate. It was a sign that they were approaching an area heavily laden with factories, plants and industrial machinations. Eventually the carriage came to a groaning halt, the floor shuddering under their feet as the metal contraption stilled, and Maeda made the first move to get out.

  
Reaching for the handle on the door, she pushed it open and stepped down. The ground felt like sand under her feet. Where lush grass would have been decades ago, there was instead a fine layer of soot and ash. There was a distant clanking and grinding sound, the factories hard at work. But they were still a little ways away from their real destination, it was just that this was the closest they could get by carriage. The male stepped out behind her, his presence taut with anxiety. Again it made her question just who the male was and why his paranoia seemed almost over the top in regards to him simply stepping foot into Garlemald. Her traveling companion pulled his hood up over his head, making sure to conceal his features before giving her a nod of consent to keep moving. As they had paid their travel expenses up front, Maeda turned to lead the way without any further delay. With the sky as dark as it was, the cobbled pathways, she hesitates to call them streets, were illuminated with old fashioned lanterns on tall poles. Firelight flickered feebly, barely offering much light at all but it was better than nothing. While ceruleum lanterns would offer more light to see by, why would those in charge of development waste the valuable material on the areas that mined, processed and distributed it. It was one of the many reasons why Maeda detested the city, but she understood that some people just couldn't leave the way she did.

  
The cobblestone walkway was slightly uneven under her feet, and covered in a thin layer of smog-laden soot from the surrounding factories. The air felt thick, and if Maeda didn't know any better she would swear it was evening with how dark the sky seemed to be in this place. A false step had her stumbling, only managing to avoid injury when a set of hands caught her by the back of her dress and halted her forward momentum. The grip was a lot stronger than she would have attributed to the other, but she had long since learned not to judge books by their respective covers. A grateful smile crossed her lips as Maeda looked back towards her companion to thank him. His arm appeared out of nowhere, offering his elbow in a show of chivalry that Maeda had long since died with her husband. The older woman looked from the offered arm, then to the face peering down at her with a glimmer of concern. It was the indicating nod to his arm that had her huffing a soft laugh and linking her arm with his, accepting the support they both required as they traversed the rather ramshackle path.

  
   "What a gentleman." She teased lightly, getting a quiet smile in return. The tension from earlier seemed to ease with the act, allowing them to relax respectively in the other's presence. Given the male's aversion to being touched, it was a huge step that had Maeda's chest warming with pride and happiness. That he wasn't as on guard and withdrawn with her did wonders for the old woman's soul. It made her feel like she had helped ease whatever traumatic experience the boy had gone through in a small way.

  
It took some time to find the location they were looking for. There weren't any street signs aside from a map at the carriage house that showed them their general vicinity though from looking at it Maeda knew they would have to go north-west. Even through the smog above, she could make out the position of the sun and together they found their way through the closely packed warehouses and factories out towards the ceruleum mining fields. She knew the minute they reached the location because the male at her side tensed up, the muscles under her touch flexing instinctively.

  
Though the area had been damaged beyond repair, and an industrial mining facility cut through what was left, the deep valley remained. A pit that would have once held a glistening blue lake, and tall mountains that caged the valley in on the far side set the backdrop, the peaks seemingly ominous thanks to the cloudy sky. Ever so slowly Maeda felt the arm wrapped in hers slip free and she stayed where she was as the male stepped closer. The facility was quiet of personnel, though the massive mining arm was clunking and grinding away, driving deeper and deeper into the earth. The male's keen eyes stared at the reality before him as if trying to really comprehend what he was seeing. No crisp green grass, no field of flowers. Not even a man, a monster, that haunted his dreams. Then why would he dream of it? Why would he know this place, not as it was but as what it had once been, according to Maeda? Of all the questions he wanted to ask, the number of answers he was getting were frustratingly few.

  
Maeda stayed back, letting the young man approach the situation at his own pace. She didn't know what he expected to find out here, but she had a feeling that what they found instead was not it. Step by step over dead grass that crackled underfoot, the male approached the facility. His eyes were latched onto a spot in the distance, like he was expecting something to come out of it. Little did she know that that's exactly what was happening. He kept waiting to see an impossibly tall figure appear out of nothing like a ghost, all cruel smiles and hungry eyes. Long legs closing the distance in a matter of moments, and hands calloused from years of swordplay reaching out towards him like shackles. Like a trap snapping shut on a wild beast. It took a moment for the Warrior to realize why the world was spinning until awareness to the burning sensation in his lungs clicked into place. He wasn't breathing, he needed to be breathing. Doubling over and resting his hands on his knees, he dragged in breath after thick, dry breath. The air was tainted here, caustic and sharp. It felt like he was swallowing needles every time he dragged the air in, but eventually the colored spots in front of his vision began to clear and the world around him finally stopped spinning out of control.

  
It was that moment Maeda decided to approach him, this time keeping her hands to herself as she hunkered down beside him to look him in the face without requiring the male to stand upright. "Do you want to go home?" She asked, then paused as if she just realized what she asked. "I mean... go back. To my home." She corrected guiltily. The silence stayed stagnant for a beat before she got a jerky nod of response. A sympathetic smile crossed her lips before she straightened up and dusted off her skirt. Just like he had offered his arm to her earlier, she now offered hers and allowed the male to lean on her for support. She didn't comment on the way his hand seemed to be shaking as it gripped her elbow, merely patting it with her own as they headed back to the factory district and the carriage house.

  
It took longer this time due to the uneven walk way as well as the uneven gait of the male attached to her arm like a life line. Maeda continued to lightly pat his hand for reassurance, keeping the pace slow and easy until the young man got his feet under him in a more confident manner. By the time they reached the carriage house, he was steadier on his feet and his face had regained some of the natural color, though he didn't shrug off Maeda's touch the way she assumed he would to regain some personal space. The wait was silent until they got into the carriage again to head back towards the city. Maeda wanted some fresh tea and a thick slice of bread dipped in honey when they got home to rid her throat of the rough feeling of breathing in the grimy air from the factory district.

  
The carriage was just as stifling as it had been when they first rode in it, and they hadn't achieved enough speed to welcome the breeze that had offered them respite before. Tension was high in the way the male across from her sat, like he couldn't believe he was sitting still again. He kept looking out the small window back towards the direction they had come from, like he was waiting for something to change about what they had seen. Eventually the factories disappeared into the distance, the entire district set away from the city to avoid polluting the air too horrendously, but they were an industrial Empire, so it didn't affect the outcome nearly as much as Maeda assumed they were expecting. Neither of them spoke, and Maeda wasn't sure what she wanted to say so she did nothing to break that silence.

  
It was a few minutes before either of them realized something was wrong. The carriage was slowing down, the breeze coming in through the window vanishing almost immediately with the decrease to their travel speed. Maeda frowned, trying to look out through that very window to see what the problem was, but due to the small size she couldn't make out much. "I think it's an Empire convoy." She said with a frown, wondering what was going on that they would be slowing down civilian transport. Were they looking for something? Or someone? Maeda cast a look at her travel companion, the boy who had been living under her roof since the day he literally fell into her garden, and saw the whites of his eyes as he stared back at her. His gaze was imploring, searching her face for any reason to bolt out the door of the carriage. Maeda offered him a smile, clicking her tongue in a gently scolding way and reached out to pat his hand. "Rest easy child." She said. They weren't the only carriage to travel this route today, so maybe it wasn't an isolated event. Though there was a sinking sensation in her stomach at the way the lad across from her reacted. Like he expected her to sell him out for nothing. She didn't know what was going on, but if this boy was wanted by the Garlean Empire, they would need to have some very damning evidence to convince her of any treachery on his part. Even then, it would be a cold day in the Burn before she turned someone away in need of her help.

  
Footsteps crunched along the ground, several pairs from the sound of it. The male shrunk back from the window, drawing his hood up over his head to conceal himself from anyone who might look in through the open space. Someone ordered the driver down from his seat, and the carriage shuddered lightly with the distribution of his weight as he did what they asked. The silence that followed after that was almost deafening in a way, their hearing strained to the point where it felt like the blood rushing through their veins was a roar in their ears. The banging knock on the carriage door made them both jump in surprise, Maeda barely catching the gasp that threatened to escape her. It had been so loud in the sudden quiet. Neither moved, their breath light and hesitant. Another banging knock, but this time it was more insistent.

  
   "Step out of the carriage with both hands in clear view." A voice ordered, muffled slightly as if someone were wearing something over their face. Possibly a mask or a helmet of some kind. Maeda glanced at her traveling companion, measuring his reaction as she very slowly reached for the handle on the door. Could she slip out without whoever was on the other side seeing the young man in the other seat? She doubted it, and the driver wouldn't have any kind of loyalty to conceal the presence of a second passenger. An idea to try to pass off the young man as family, even adoptive family, crossed her mind but she wasn't sure how convincingly she could sell that lie. Though she could always try if they got too forward in their questioning. But then again, they might just be doing spot checks, looking for contraband coming into the city. They were just outside the city limits after all. Maeda could see it in the distance as she stepped out of the carriage.

  
Movement behind her, and a slightly misplaced knee against the small of her back told her that the lad had followed her out as well. She kept her hands in clear view, but she wouldn't raise them as if she had anything to be held guilty of. Instead she gathered her skirt and stepped down out of the carriage completely, her chin lifted but she kept her expression passive so as not to incur any kind of wrath from some self entitled brat in a uniform. "What's this about?" She asked simply, deciding not to beat around the bush. If there was something they were looking for, she wasn't going to give them the opportunity to talk in circles around her about what they were really after. She scanned the convoy, surprised to find that there was easily a dozen men, far more than she would ever expect for something as simple as a traffic stop. Not only that, but one of them appeared to be wearing the uniform of a high ranking officer. If the insignia on his uniform was real, it would make him an Ambassador. Why would an Ambassador be doing something so trivial such as stopping a random civilian carriage in the middle of the day?

  
Maeda cast a look at her companion out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't detect what was going on in his head. The Ambassador stepped forward, his face much too young for someone in such a position but his eyes were solid black, cruel and spoke of experiences far beyond what a lad his age should have seen. But then again, the Empire often recruited their soldiers young when they're still impressionable. Very few young men escaped recruitment, it's only after they fail that they're given other options of employment, usually in the workhouses. The young man held something in his hands, his eyes glancing down at it in curious puzzlement. Maeda couldn't see what it was from where she was, only knowing that whatever it was it seemed to be the reason why they were stopped.

  
   "Search the carriage, make sure there's no one else hiding away." The young man said. Maeda was suddenly very glad she hadn't tried to conceal her companion's presence earlier, doing so would have only made them appear more suspicious. If they acted natural, then maybe they would be allowed on their way and will make it home just in time for a late lunch. They were hustled out of the way as a foot soldier opened the carriage door and looked inside, scanning the empty interior before reporting that they were the only occupants of the carriage. The boy, Maeda felt unable to refer to him as a man with a face as young as his, glanced down at the object in his hands again before he began approaching them.

  
   "I apologize for the inconvenience. But I've been tasked with the duty of searching for something very important. This device here tells me that it's within the immediate area, so if you would be so kind as to tell me what it is you're hiding..." He said, his tone unnaturally pleasant but his eyes were dead. A smile that didn't reach them had Maeda's skin crawling. Fake, everything about him was fake. He looked from Maeda to the young man at her side, who's head was lowered and the hood concealing his face from view. Suspicion flickered across the Ambassador's face as he stepped a little closer. Something pulsed, a quick little ba-bump that had his head jerking down in surprise. Another step, another quick beat. He took a step to the left towards Maeda and while it still beat, it was significantly weaker. "Well now." He said, his tone obviously pleased as he turned towards the cloaked figure. The old woman was of no consequence if she didn't have what his Lord required. But the other one, the stranger who hid his face, possessed whatever it was that the infernal device was leading him to.

  
Asahi looked at he glass enclosed flower and the warm pulsing glow it was putting off before his dark eyes looked towards the stranger. Was this what the infernal device was leading them to? Or was it something on his person? Asahi passed off the device to Maxima, who held it carefully as if he wasn't sure it was safe to touch or not, and approached the stranger. Asahi tilted his head to the side, his body language more condescending than anything as a sneer-like smile crossed his face. "Is it you then? Hm? What are you hiding?" He asked, his tone deliberately gentle, though his words carried sinister weight. Asahi snapped his fingers, getting the attention of his men before pointing at the cloaked male, who's mouth tightened in a way that told Asahi he was gritting his teeth. Interesting. "Search him." He ordered delicately.

  
The air that was once silent shattered into a commotion with the sound of running feet, the clank of armor and the old woman's angry tone as she tried to separate the soldier's from their quarry. Asahi simply watched, not interested in getting involved when he had men to do the dirty lifting for him. Whoever the stranger was, he was certainly making Asahi's soldiers work to restrain him. Trained in hand-to-hand combat, that much was evident. But what was the extent of his training? Was he a soldier? One of the Empire's most wanted? A traitor to the Garlean crown? Whether it was by skill, or by sheer luck, one of Asahi's men landed a blow to the stranger's face, knocking his head back in a way that made Asahi's own neck ache. But it achieved the desired result, for as the stranger's head went back, so did his hood.

  
As Ambassador, it's very important that Asahi memorize a number of faces. But there was one that made him seethe, burning with a white hot rage that threatened to consume him. The face of the man who destroyed Lord Zenos, murdered him and left his body to burn in the crashed wreckage of a Garlean air ship. The infamous Eikon slayer, hope bearer to the people, and whatever other meticulously nonsense titles the whoreson had managed to accumulate. Eorzea's own Warrior of Light. Asahi's hand was at his weapon before he even realized he was moving, his eyes never leaving the revealed identity of the man in the cloak. The one that his Lord Zenos' flower led him to. A message perhaps from the prince? Did he wish for Asahi to avenge him? Or was it something else, something that made Asahi's stomach twist in an ugly way and bare his teeth like an animal.

  
So lost in his own head at the reveal of the stranger's identity, he barely noticed someone moving to intercept him until two hands pushed at his chest. Asahi's expression contorted into a snarl, dark eyes hungry for blood as they looked down at the old woman who had moved to stop him. His hand lashed out instinctively, catching her off guard. Asahi felt the impact of his gauntlet against her face, the resulting crack of the blow nearly lost amid the commotion caused by the Warrior fighting Asahi's men. Yet the Warrior turned to the sound all the same, as if it had been as loud as a gunshot. When the woman refused to get out of his way, Asahi raised his hand to strike her again, harder this time as a lesson for the look of defiance she gave him. A shout of fury drew his gaze to the Warrior, who had managed to pull himself free of the group and was coming at Asahi with murder in his eyes. Finding a level of calm in his own revenge induced frenzy, Asahi dropped his hand and drew his blade instead, leveling it towards the old woman who had still refused to lower her gaze. It was starting to infuriate him at her blatant disrespect.

  
The Warrior came to a skidding halt, his eyes glancing between the sword in Asahi's hand and the woman at the other end. Asahi flicked his gaze to his men who were beginning to gather themselves, some visibly injured. How disappointing. "Restrain him." Asahi ordered, his eyes returning to the Warrior of Light. The male grunted as his knees were kicked from behind, forcing him to drop, and his arms were pulled back in a way that was no doubt uncomfortable. Good, because soon he'll be missing that small amount of discomfort by the time Asahi was finished with him. If he had anything to do with the state his Lord Zenos was in, Asahi will make sure to find out exactly what it was and how to reverse it. Aulus could wait a few days, once Asahi got what he wanted then perhaps he could cut the smug bastard out of the picture together and gain his Lord Zenos' unending gratitude for piecing him back together and bringing his enemy's head on a silver platter.

  
   "Don't hurt him. Whatever you're searching for, he has nothing to do with it." The old woman spoke, and if Asahi had been a naive brat then he might have almost believed her tone. Did she really believe that? Did she not know who she traveled with? Asahi tightened his grip on his blade, a small giggle of disbelief slipping out of him.

  
   "Nothing to do with it?" He asked her incredulously, looking towards the Warrior before he gestured with his blade. The Warrior was wise not to start struggling the moment Asahi relented threatening her with the weapon, because he no doubt knew how easily he could flick his wrist and make her blood spill. "You stupid old crone, has your mind rotten away under the influence of the ceruleum plants? You travel with the slayer of our dear prince, Lord Zenos!" He crowed, murmurs scattering amid Asahi's men at the news of who they had captured. Asahi wasn't worried that word would spread though, his men were loyal, if not afraid of the consequences of betrayal. Not to mention they were paid well enough to feed their family, which was just as good as loyalty at the end of the day. It was amazing what some people will do for money. "You're a far way from home, Warrior of Light." Asahi cooed, approaching the kneeling Warrior with a casual stride, the sense of superiority he had practically spilling off him in waves. "You did, however, save me all the trouble of having to find you myself. For that I'm quite grateful, saves me the tedium of having to associate with the... riff-raff in Doma." Asahi said, his smile tightening as if the very thought of Doma left a sour taste in his mouth. Stepping back, Asahi jerked his head towards the envoy carriage. "Take him."

  
The Warrior let them haul him to his feet, though he did nothing to aid them in getting him up. Why make it easier for them to drag him away to his death? But as they passed Maeda, he cast her a look out of the corner of his eye, meeting her gaze and trying to convey any kind of apology to her. Without him around, she wouldn't be tangled up in this mess. But all she did was offer him a gentle smile and a slow shake of her head, dismissing his guilt. There was nothing for him to be sorry for, though the truth about his identity was shocking, she would have done everything the same any other way. He had needed help, and she had needed someone to look after.

  
Asahi turned to follow his men and their prisoner before he paused. His wrist flicked, the sunlight catching the silver glint of a blade and before anyone could blink he had split Maeda's chest open. Blood spray painted the sky for a brief moment, and Maeda's expression was caught frozen in shock and surprise before it slipped away and she crumpled to the ground like a puppet who's strings had been cut.

  
A scream ripped through the air, wrought from the Warrior of Light himself as wide and desperate eyes stared back at the still form of his friend. Blood slowly seeped out from under her, staining the earth a deep red that turned a muddy brown as it absorbed into the dry ground below. Asahi flicked the blood from his blade, then proceeded to wipe it on the hem of the woman's skirt before he slipped it back into its scabbard. Fixing his hair and ensuring that he hadn't gotten any of her filthy blood on his pristine white uniform, Asahi snapped his fingers at the carriage driver and gestured at the mess he had made. "Get someone out here to deal with this. Drag her out into the Burn for all I care, just make sure there's no reason for animals to come sniffing around this close to the city." He ordered before turning on his heel. The Warrior was frozen still, staring at the woman Asahi had just cut down with a broken expression, tears trailing down his cheeks silently. Asahi paused, leaning in slightly to stare at the tears with a curious expression.

  
   "Interesting, I didn't think monsters were capable of crying." Asahi mused, his smile growing feral as that distraught expression flickered to a cold fury that had him shivering in delight. Was this what fascinated his dear Lord Zenos so? Asahi licked his teeth at the thought. Whatever it was, he intended to find out. By any means necessary. Snapping his fingers, his men forcibly dragged the Warrior into the carriage, and within moments they were headed back to Garlemald with their prize, leaving bloodshed in their wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.


	16. Pair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath, and Asahi being a little bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mild torture and blood in this scene. Nothing graphic, but you shouldn't hit people with metal gloves on. Just saying.

The splash of ice cold water was not a pleasant wake up call by any stretch of the imagination, but he supposed that was the point of it. His head snapped up, his neck twinging at the motion due to the fact it had been in the same position for so long. A deep breath rattled his lungs, and his head pounded at the sudden stimulation. A few stray beads of water caught in the back of his throat, leading to a gut wrenching cough that had him doubling over only to find his movements restricted. Rope dug into the muscles of his arms and chest, rubbing roughly when he pulled. His hands and legs were bound in a similar fashion, tightly restrained by a thick rope wound around the chair he was currently on. The Warrior's vision spun for a moment as pain throbbed through his head centering around a certain spot on the back of it. Closing his eyes with a groan, he waited until it felt less like he was going to throw up on himself before he opened them again.

   "You're awake, good." A voice said, drawing the Warrior's attention. The sight of a crisp white uniform brought back the memory of Maeda's face as a blade cut through her, spilling her innocent blood. Jerking at his restraints, the Warrior knew it was in vain but the urge to lunge for the young male in front of him was so tempting. Asahi motioned to the guard beside him, silently instructing him to take the now empty bucket in his hand away. Once his hands were free, Asahi tucked them behind his back in an almost casual stance as he took a step closer to the bound Warrior, watching him with keen interest in his eyes. He didn't say anything, just merely watching him like one would watch a wild animal in an enclosure. Asahi's brows furrowed slightly the longer he looked, annoyance overtaking his expression when the Warrior pointedly turned his attention away from him to inspect the surrounding room. There were no windows here, and from the layer of dust that covered the majority of the surfaces in the room, it wasn't one that saw a lot of foot traffic. The chair itself didn't feel rickety or old, it was in fact quite solid which told him that they had brought the chair into this room specifically for him. Did that mean that they didn't have anywhere else to hold him? Why a chair in the first place?

His attention was yanked back to the young man when a white gloved hand reached out and gripped his jaw tightly, squeezing tightly enough to make his teeth ache. The Warrior narrowed his eyes as he met his gaze. His armor was an Imperial uniform, but the color was different than those of the military. So was he a high ranking officer or something? The Warrior inspected the male right back, something that seemed to surprise the stranger.

Asahi squeezed the Warrior's jaw to prevent him from pulling away, refusing to let him think he had the upper hand. Asahi was in control here. "What could he possibly have wanted from you?" He asked the Warrior, ignoring the confused look he got in response. Asahi forcefully turned the Warrior's head, inspecting his face. He couldn't help but feel like the Warrior was just letting his head be twisted around like this, but he quickly smothered that passage of thought before it had time to fester into anything more than that. The enemy of the Empire was held captive in the belly of the capital itself. He was alone, had no chance of escape and Asahi had every intention of utilizing those facts to draw out every bit of information he could about the man that his Lord Zenos...

Asahi's expression twisted and in quick retaliation he released the Warrior's jaw only to back hand him. The decorative metal embellishments on the back of his gloved hand bit into the captive's skin and drew blood. Asahi grimaced in disdain as he looked at his hand and the speckles of blood that now stained it. He'll have to throw it out now. He hadn't gotten that woman's filthy blood on him earlier, but now he'll have no choice but to change. Though that could wait for now. Asahi returned his gaze to the Warrior to find him staring straight back. The captive man seemed to smile while at the same time looking to be baring his teeth, blood staining the interior of his mouth and sending a chill of trepidation down Asahi's spine. Before Asahi could ask him why he was looking at him like that, the Warrior pursed his lips strangely and spat a wad of bloody saliva at Asahi, splattering the front of that crisp white uniform, effectively ruining it further.

Asahi's eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing in anger. He curled his hand into a tight fist, raising it to hit the bound male again when a knock on the door stilled his action. Asahi twisted his head around to look over his shoulder at the guard standing watch who in turn cracked open the door to speak to whoever it was on the other side. The silence seemed to hang heavily over the room, the tension thick and stifling. The door closed as lightly as possible, as if the guard were trying not to trigger the instinctive response Asahi had been interrupted from.

   "Ambassador, a report on your findings has been... requested." The guard explained. He didn't want to say that the scientist had demanded it rather than asked for it, but everyone in the capital knew of the late prince's favoritism to the mad man. Even now he acted as though he had Lord Zenos' favor, even going as far as to order the Ambassador around.

Asahi tensed his jaw, reigning in the hard rage he felt and firming it into a cold resolve. It had served him well not to let his emotions get the better of him, but when it came to his Lord Zenos it was hard to keep his composure. Especially now that he had the murderer of the man right in front of him. He'll find out how the Warrior was able to get his Lord to drop his guard enough to allow such a weakling to strike him down by any means necessary. But first he had to deal with that impertinent scientist. Lowering his clenched fist, took a calming breath and looked down at his uniform. He'd have to change before anyone noticed. Thankfully it was momentarily concealed because of the red detailing but if anyone looked too closely it would be obvious that there was a stain of some kind on the front of his coat and on the glove of his right hand. "Tell him that I have more pressing, political, matters to attend to first. I'll be with him as soon as I'm able." Asahi said as evenly as he could. The sound of a closing door and retreating steps settled Asahi and allowed him to focus again. Letting his anger get the better of him wouldn't get the results he desired.

Along the left wall was the machine from before, the pulse almost audible in the silence of the room. Given the Warrior's position he wouldn't be able to see the device without turning his head around further than was physically possible, so it gave Asahi some leverage. Walking around the Warrior almost casually now, an eerie disconnect from the burning fury from before, Asahi went to collect the device. It sat heavily in his hands, cumbersome and clunky, but as he got closer to the Warrior the flower seemed to pulse harder and harder until the machine containing it felt like it was vibrating in his hold. Asahi looked at the flower, then to the restrained male who seemed determined not to give Asahi his full attention before returning his gaze back to the flower. What was this thing and why was it reacting to the Warrior of Light of all people?

As Asahi came around to the front of the bound male again, he was surprised to hear a slight intake of breath due to shock from the otherwise silent captive. He stared at the Warrior, taking another step closer and watching his expression shift into one of mild panic and... fear. The flower pulsed, vibrating the container hard enough to almost make Asahi drop it, and he found himself frowning at the thing. Why a flower of all things anyways, and why was it reacting to the Warrior of Light? Perhaps it was a locator for the male himself, for the day they finally destroyed him once and for all. But it could also be something he carried on his person. They had removed any item he had on his person save for his clothes since it was already risky enough transporting an unconscious man, let alone a naked one, under the radar into the bowels of the Capital.

Asahi stepped to the right with the machine in his hands, and watched as the Warrior's eyes followed the flower. He stepped to the left and noticed the same result. It was strange, but it meant that whatever the flower was, it meant something to both the Warrior and Lord Zenos. "You know what this is, don't you?" He asked curiously, smirking when the Warrior immediately pulled his gaze away from the flower to glare at him. Asahi moved closer and the flower responded, making the Warrior twitch oddly. Asahi tilted his head at the response, moving the flower in his hands even closer and watching the Warrior twitch the exact moment the flower responded to the close proximity. What was going on? It wasn't until he did it a third time and was nearly close enough to the Warrior to feel him breathe that he heard it. An echoing pulse, but coming from the Warrior instead of the contraption in Asahi's hands. Asahi turned his head to address the guard waiting by the door. "Come here and hold this." He ordered, depositing the machine into the grunt's hands before he reached for the Warrior. Despite the fact that the male jerked back from his touch, he couldn't get very far and was left to glare at Asahi as he pulled at his clothes and patted him down as best he could through the ropes. Feeling something strange along the inner lining of the Warrior's shirt, Asahi located the hidden pocket and yanked it open, tearing the fabric with little care. Pay back for spitting blood on him. Inside was a very similar flower, albeit a little crushed and wilted from being transported inside a pocket. The flower vibrated more the closer it got to its twin, and the Warrior's face paled at the sight.

Asahi clicked his tongue and tapped the Warrior's cheek to get his attention, waving the flower in front of his face tauntingly. "Now what is someone like you doing walking around with something that belongs to the Garlean Empire?" He asked, though he honestly had no idea what the story was with the flowers. He could only assume that it had something to do with the red mist-like state the prince was in. "Do you know what this is? Hm? Why don't you tell me how you came to be in possession of it." He asked with as sweet a tone as he could muster. He smiled, though the corners were tight and it didn't reach his eyes when the Warrior stubbornly looked away again. "Come now, don't be like that. We could be friends you and I, start fresh." He lied. It was obvious the Warrior wasn't buying it though given the glare he was being given. Oh if only looks could kill, then Asahi would be dead a thousand times over. He supposed he did kill whatever her name was, the old woman who got in his way. "Tell me about the flowers." He prompted.

Silence followed, which was not the result he had been looking for. Asahi sighed slowly, and without warning he slapped the Warrior again. The metal on the back of his hand clanked against the Warrior's teeth, and blood stained the once white glove redder than before. He had already dirtied it, there wasn't much point in being upset over a little more. "Tell me." He prodded again, waving the slightly damaged flower in front of the Warrior's slightly dazed face. Had he hit him too hard? No, it was possible he always looked dazed by default. All Eorzean's had that slightly stupid look on their faces to him, he just assumed it was a genetic trait. Again silence followed, followed by the sound of another hard slap, noting how the skin was already beginning to swell. Asahi was learning that interrogating someone was harder than he thought. He had only hit him thrice and already he was beginning to feel drained from it. He might have to employ the help of a professional if they wanted to get anywhere. But the flower was a good lead for now, maybe it would be enough to get that lunatic scientist off his back for a bit. He'll just have to come up with a lie to account for where he found the second flower, as he wanted to keep the presence of the Warrior silent for as long as he could until he was satisfied. Even if he weren't trying to extract sensitive information, it was a personal debt he was balancing. He would make him regret what he did to Lord Zenos before delivering him on a silver platter to the man he thought he murdered. If he brings his Lord one of their most prolific enemies with his will and body broken, would that not guarantee him his Lord's recognition?

Another knock on the door, and Asahi found himself biting back a curse. He would have to move their captive to another location if this kept up in order to keep him a secret. Asahi pocketed the flower he had taken from the Warrior and accepted back the machine from the guard who went to answer it. He would need to return it to Aulus anyways now that it was no longer of use to him. He had what he wanted. The guard at the door looked at him and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Aulus mal Asina is requesting your presence... immediately. He says that whatever, and I quote, rear ends you're... Er, he says it's urgent and cannot wait a minute more." The guard said, thinking better than to fully relay the scientists message.

Asahi felt the temptation to throttle the violet-haired bastard when he saw him, and had to take a minute to compose himself once again before he responded. "Very well." He said, leveling a look at the infamous Warrior of Light who merely stared back at him with a hard glare that would have shaken a lesser man to his core. "I'll be back for you." Asahi promised, his smile not reaching his eyes. "Until I learn just how it is you came to possess a flower not unlike the one I have here," Asahi said, motioning with the machine where the flower was beating crazily due to the close proximity of its matching pair, "And what it is about you that fascinated our fair prince so much, you and I will become well acquainted with each other in the coming days." He promised solemnly, already making plans. Starve the captive of food and water would be step one. He wanted to break that defiant will, but he didn't want to kill him so only the barest of minimums would be allowed. It would also not be proper for the Ambassador to be seen out of uniform, and he couldn't very well keep getting the blood of their enemies on his clothing so he'll have to enlist the aid of another party to handle the more physical aspects of the interrogation. It would be more fun to watch anyways, though he didn't think he would be as satisfying.

The Warrior once again refused to say a word, his gaze unwavering despite the blood staining his skin and the bruised swelling coming in on only one side of his face. Disappointed that he didn't get the reaction he desired and had been subjected to stony silence once again, Asahi turned on his heel and left the room with the guard remaining stationed at the door. Turning to the guard, Asahi sized him up silently. He didn't enjoy the idea of assigning the task of guarding the Warrior of Light to some lowly grunt, but he was expendable. They all were, and while Asahi would much rather entrust the duty to Maxima, he knew it would be a waste of the man's value. Besides, Asahi had tasked him with running interference and handling that mess from earlier. Who the woman had been was irrelevant now, but it was Maxima's job to find out whether she had any next of kin that would notice her disappearance. No one must know the Warrior of Light was in Garlemald.

   "No one besides myself may enter that room unless I give the order." He commanded, getting a salute that satisfied him quite nicely. He had worked hard to deserve that recognition and respect. All to prove himself to Lord Zenos and make his mentor proud. He'll find what it is the Warrior is hiding even if he has to break his mind and body to do it. Remembering that he would have to change his clothes before he met with that insufferable scientist, Asahi stifled the sigh of resignation that threatened to escape and made his way down the hall, keeping his pace light and measured to avoid drawing attention to this otherwise empty sector. He could feel the beat of the flower he had taken from the Warrior's possession beating against his chest like a second heart beat to his own. He left it where it was for now, but he did look down at the pristine flower held within the clear dome of the tracking device. It occurred to him then that while the Warrior's flower looked wilted, damaged and ugly, the one supposedly from his Lord Zenos was pristine and perfect and beautiful. Asahi found himself smirking at the thought, because he couldn't think of a more fitting example than that. Asahi wondered if the Warrior himself would be as easy to crush as it is to crush a simple flower. The thought lightened his mood considerably as he headed to his rooms to clean up and make himself presentable for his Lord Zenos, despite the man's current physical state. No matter what form he took, he would do whatever it took to serve him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response from last chapter was insane! I didn't think people would latch on to Maeda as much as they did, since she was just supposed to be a side OC because none of the canon characters fit what I needed for the story. But the fact that she made such an impact really blew me away, and made me feel so much better because I was honestly worried that inserting an OC this late in would make people annoyed.
> 
> Anyways, i'm not sure how I personally feel about this chapter. But we're getting around to the final few and shit should start happening real soon. I want to thank everyone who's been reading and leaving really nice comments, you have no idea how happy they've made me. I do plan on updating sooner rather than later while I have inspiration but lately I've been feeling incredibly tired and all I want to do is sleep. Hopefully things start looking up once I start talking to a new therapist, it's just waiting for a call back that's really taking its toll. Anyways, hope you enjoyed!


	17. Blood Red Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never try to lie to the smartest person in the room, or tell him that his invention is flawed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for at least a week but I just couldn't get into the mood to write the next part, and it was a good place to end the chapter anyways. I didn't want to make you guys wait even longer than you have for an update, so here it is.

The world faded in and out of focus, like waves crashing against the shore. In and out, complete clarity for a brief moment before fading back into obscurity. It was becoming harder and harder to ride the high of that wave before it crashed into the shoreline and scattered all over again. The clearest parts were about _him_ , with his sharp eyes and that look that sent a shiver rippling through red mist, making it quake with ecstasy. Those bright eyes, the line of that defined jaw and those lips. The wraith keened at the memory of those lips, so soft and pliable against... The wave crashed and the thoughts scattered. The wraith hissed, thrashing against the clear barricade keeping it contained. All because they had taken the one piece that was keeping it all centered away. All the focus of its consciousness contained in the delicate petals of a small and pristine flower. A flower that had been plucked and prodded, kept separate in a box only to eventually be taken away completely. The wraith was scattered, barely cognitive and tangled up in itself.

  
The one outside the barrier stared a lot. The one who had taken the flower away and given it to someone else. Someone who wasn't the figure with the eyes. Those bright eyes. Full of hatred, full of fear. The wraith crooned as the wave came in again, connecting features together from the foggy mess of what appeared to be thoughts. A slender neck just begging to be bitten. Not to kill but to claim. The red mist quaked again, a strange purring sound drawing the attention of the purple haired figure. There was a name attached to that figure, but the wraith didn't care. That wasn't the figure from its thoughts. The face was wrong. The hair was wrong. Everything was wrong. Soft skin, begging to be tasted and bitten, spread out on silky sheets. Heat clutching tight, moving against a body the wraith didn't recognize. It rattled a hiss at the idea of someone else touching this beautiful creature.

  
The wave broke against the shore and once again the image was lost. The wraith let out a broken sound of loss, scratching at the barrier as if it could chase after the image of those eyes and reclaim what was lost. It was lost, so very lost. If only it had the flower... The wraith could feel the separation like a missing limb. Not that it had limbs, it was just red mist at this point. Drifting and swirling like those waves it kept chasing.

  
Like a drum beat, the red mist pulsed against the glass keeping it contained. It had taken up the behavior the minute Asahi left the room with the device containing the flower. Just slamming into the side of the containment unit rhythmically as if it were following the soft pulse the flower let off. It was the most curious development, while Aulus knew the creature had some kind of fixation with the flower, he hadn't considered that taking it away would get such a volatile response. Though over time the thumping had turned almost listless, like a dog throwing its body against a cage door it knew would not open, yet was unwilling to let its will break. Aulus leaned against the wall with a hot cup of coffee in his hand, his third of the morning. His foot tapped restlessly, unconsciously mimicking the tempo the red mist was hammering out against the sides of its glass case.

  
The little brat was late. Since his return, Aulus had been awaiting Asahi's report on what they discovered on the other side of the tether. But of course the ignorant child had kept him waiting, causing him to relay a message twice, despite his loathing of human contact. Lifting the cup to his lips again, the scientist took another slow sip of his coffee as he watched the strange creature in the tube. It seemed whatever cognitive response the red wraith seemed to have before now had faded with the loss of the flower. In fact, it seemed to be settling into a pattern of dystrophy. Most notably in a physical manner, what little manifestation the wraith had achieved before now had faded over time. Aulus would say that a lesser scientist would worry, but for him he saw an opportunity to gain yet more knowledge. Why was it breaking down like this? There had to be some kind of trigger, unless it was simply a matter of time due to being separate from a physical body.

  
There were times though that it seemed to react to something, but nothing that Aulus did seemed to be the trigger. It was rhythmic, like the banging against the glass, but seemed to falter sporadically. It was making the strangest of sounds too, chirps and purrs at times and shrieks and hisses at others as if it were having a conversation with itself. Aulus finished off his coffee and set the empty cup aside before picking up his tablet and glancing at the information displayed on it. Nothing had changed since he had checked it ten minutes ago, but the rhythmic thumping was begin to drive him insane.

  
Eventually the sound of footsteps gave him a welcome reprieve, despite the fact that he knew the owner of said footsteps was just as headache inducing as the thumping, if not more so. The guard outside the door opened it after a quick knock, showing Asahi sas Brutus into the lab. Immediately the boy's weasel-like face wrinkled as the smell of chemicals and slight body odor hit his nose. Aulus had long since gotten used to it, but the arrogance the brat displayed was almost enough for the scientist to say something. But before he could, the red mist in the chamber suddenly screeched and thrashed at the sides, slamming against the side closest. Aulus saw the cause of the commotion to be the machine in Asahi's hands, the pristine pink and white flower still contained within. Aulus approached the shorter male and held his hands out for the device, determined to check the information gathered from the machine itself only to frown when Asahi seemed to hold the machine tighter as if he was reluctant to hand it over. Aulus merely raised a brow, the light overhead glinting off the glass of his spectacles as he slowly tilted his head at the odd behavior.

  
Asahi seemed to catch himself and sniffed derisively, holding the machine tighter. "This is clearly an important heirloom to the prince. It seems fitting that his prized protege be the one to keep it safe until his majesty makes his official return." The Doman brat said, setting Aulus' teeth on edge. With the red mist hammering away at the side of the containment unit, he nearly missed the secondary rhythmic beating coming from the machine in Asahi's hands. Aulus stalked closer, easily towering over Asahi's slight figure and looked down at the clear dome that Asahi seemed to be attempting to conceal with his hand. The flower was pulsing wildly within, the same rhythm the wraith was banging out behind him. It seemed to vibrate the device from how strong it was. Aulus met Asahi's eyes, noting the twisted sneer on the other's face. How unsightly.

  
   "I couldn't agree more." Aulus said suddenly, clearly catching Asahi off guard by the look of surprise on his face. Aulus adjusted his glasses and turned on his heel to approach the containment unit. "I imagine he would be overjoyed to receive it from his esteemed protege in person." He said as he looked back to Asahi and pulled up the lock controls for the container. Asahi looked from the scientist to the red mist thrashing and slamming against the glass. The memory of those empty eye sockets and needle-like teeth chilled him to his very core, and given how vehemently the mist seemed to be trying to get to the flower, he shuddered to think what would happen should he be between a predator and its prey. Asahi walked over to the table with quick and measured steps, setting the machine down with a bang that caused a screech of outrage from the tank behind him. He stiffened, afraid to turn. The resolve from earlier slipping away as he thought about the form his fair Prince had taken.

  
Aulus merely smiled and set the tablet down again, pleased that his threat had worked. Though he wouldn't have really set the wraith loose, it was too volatile to have wandering free now. Besides, it might wander too far from the physical body and dissolve into nothingness should the tether stretch to thin and eventually snap. At least with it contained he could monitor the connection and ensure that no further damage would come to the Prince's physical body. Aulus approached the device as Asahi backed away, noting with interest that as he did so, the flower within stopped pulsing as quickly. The wraith seemed to settle down too, as much as it had been at least as it once again returned to that constant banging.

  
   "So? What did you find?" He asked curiously, inspecting the flower before picking up the device. A hard bang had him looking back to the containment unit where two red hands pressed against the glass, curled into gnarled fists as a skeletal face faded in and out of view. A rattling hiss echoed in the chamber, and for the first time since they had gotten the creature under control Aulus felt a shiver of apprehension ripple through his spine. He looked at the machine containing the flower, then back to the hollow sockets looking back at him. The wraith seemed different than before when the flower had been taken. Before it had seemed mournful, almost lonely. Now it seemed intent and purposeful, swaying from side to side as it stared through the glass. Aulus set the device down slowly but the wraith didn't retreat this time. It continued to stare, or what would be considered staring for a creature that had no eyes. Only empty holes into nothingness.

  
Since the wraith didn't seem to be moving aside from that slow swaying back and forth, Aulus turned to look back to Asahi who seemed to be staring back at the wraith as if he couldn't take his eyes off the creature. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes lest he strain the muscles, Aulus snapped his fingers in front of Asahi's face and was granted the dignified bratty glare that seemed so perfectly practiced. A brief moment had Aulus wondering if he did indeed practice it, in a mirror while no doubt fixing that ridiculous hair cut of his.

  
   "Nothing." Asahi said immediately, and the following silence spoke loudly enough for all present. Aulus merely stared, eyes narrowing behind spectacle glass as he stared down the Ambassador. Not that he really expected the brat to be intimidated by him, as much as he hated the child for everything he was and did, Asahi did tangle with some unscrupulous politicians and was used to people trying to do this exact move. Though the blatant lie couldn't be taken back, Asahi knew he would have to fabricate some tale in order to conceal the presence of the famed Warrior of Light within their walls. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the device on the table and the flower within.

  
   "Your infernal contraption led my men and I around in circles for hours! Taking us out beyond the city limits to the filthy mining district. There is nothing out there, it's a pitiful wasteland, no better than the Burn." Asahi sneered, flicking his hair out of his eyes arrogantly. "I had my men scour the area and not a single one turned up anything of note." He lied. For a moment he thought he was successful when Aulus hummed in quiet thought and retreated to pace the room. The scientist put his thumb and forefinger to his chin in a thoughtful pose as he paced back and forth.

  
   "My machine was... defective?" Aulus asked the room, though it was a rhetorical question and didn't require an answer. He shook his head firmly and glared at Asahi before a smirk touched his lips. "Impossible, my machine is the epitome of mechanical engineering!" He said, deciding to call the bluff. Something was off about the whole situation. While Aulus might not be as socially sound as some of his intellectual lessers, the sheer idea that something he created could be deemed defective was inconceivable. "No matter, I'll just scan the device's internal tracking software. If you're certain nothing's out there then you shouldn't have a problem with my sending another squad to... follow up." He said, reaching for the device to do just that.

  
A gauntleted hand came down on top of the casing before he could pick it up, making the device rattle on the table. A displeased hiss came from behind them, but Aulus was less bothered by the wraith's reaction than by the child currently preventing him from looking at the data. Aulus raised a lavender brow as he turned to look at Asahi, a cynical smile touching his lips. "Is there something the matter, Ambassador?" He asked, stressing the use of Asahi's role. When Asahi did nothing but tighten his jaw, Aulus huffed a breath and moved to push the young man's hand aside. "Then your childish behavior has no place here." He said, moving to take the device only to be shoved aside by Asahi who gathered the device to his chest, much to the displeasure of the red wraith ten feet away. Aulus stared at the other for several silent seconds before letting out an exhausted sigh. Once again they were right back to where they started, and yet now Asahi seemed even less likely to part with the device. If his earlier behavior hadn't confirmed he was hiding something, then this most certainly did.

  
   "I don't have time for this." Aulus said, walking over to his tablet and pulling up the lock controls. "You can either give it to me... or to him." Aulus said once again, nodding his head to the hissing wraith within, once again returning back to that swaying back and forth. Slow movements, empty eyes focused solely on the item in Asahi's possession. This time he didn't bother letting the little brat get around to it in his own time. "Five." He said, moving so he would be able to duck behind cover. From what he could tell the wraith couldn't venture too far from physical host so the chances of it actually escaping the palace were low. Even if the wraith slaughtered a few guards and maids before recapture, one's silence was so easily bought in Garlemald. No one would know of its existence.

  
   "Four. Three. Two." He counted down, meeting Asahi's widening gaze. Aulus smirked slightly, finding that he derived an almost pleasure from the idea of what could follow. "One." He practically cooed before he hit the disengage on the lock and dove behind cover.

  
Like fog rolling in over barren streets on a cool fall day, the blood red mist spilled out as the containment unit opened. An inhuman shriek echoed through the lab as the wraith launched itself from its prison and made a direct path for its prize. Asahi saw the red spectre coming at him at a horrific speed and did the only thing he could think to do. He screamed and threw the item that held the wraith's utmost attention as far from him as he could. Almost as if magnetized, the red mist changed trajectory and engulfed the box, catching it before it could hit the ground. The mist hovered for a moment before taking shape of gnarled red hands and a bare torso. The face remained skeletal, nearly obscured by waves of mist floating about its head like a halo of hair. Long fingers gripped the device, nearly concealing it and a strange groan started to fill the room. The cracking of glass joined in and with a deafening crack, the wraith broke the machine in half and dropped the pieces to the ground with a metallic clunk, leaving only a pristine flower cupped delicately in the palm.

  
For a moment the room was still as the wraith crooned over the flower, a finger lightly stroking the petals, tracing them like one would a lover's cheek. It paused, inspecting the pulse before bringing it up to its face and breathing in through the slits that made up its nose. The mist shuddered and then it suddenly twisted its head around to face the terrified Ambassador, hollow eyes staring emptily as the massive maw of its mouth parted and began to hiss. If one listened closely it would almost sound like it was making out a word. The wraith sniffed the air again and its body finally turned to face the same direction. The flower glowed, pulsing faster the closer it got to Asahi. That maw stretched wider, like a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow its prey, and slowly it raised its hands to its face and tipped the flower into its mouth. It fell into the black abyss within, settling as a soft pink light in the center of its chest. The wraith shuddered and solidified a little more, forming a full torso and abdomen, and moved closer to Asahi inch by inch, sniffing away like a hunter on the scent of its prey.

  
 _"Beastie..."_ The wraith suddenly snarled and lunged for Asahi, finding the source of the scent it was following. Sharp claw-like fingers caught and yanked at the pristine white uniform, ignoring the terrified screech of the figure. The wraith didn't care who it was, only that they smelled like the one from the memories. The Beastie. Sweet, delicious, supple Beastie. The wraith clawed and raked, the stench of copper in the air almost drowning out that sweet, sweet scent. There, amid the ribbons of fabric and flesh was a crumpled and damaged pink and white flower, the petals staining red with blood.

  
Scooping it up from the carnage, the wraith let out a broken croon at the dire state of its flower. Damaged and hurt, not cared for at all. The scent on the flower made the wraith purr and ache in a way it couldn't fathom. It wasn't just the flower though, the there was another sweet smell that pulled at the wraith, calling to the flower sitting warmly in its chest. But the Beastie wasn't there to make the sweet scent, only the flower. His flower. Their flower. Theirs. The wraith let out a rattling hiss, turning eyes of nothing back to the bloody mess he had created, ready to tear it apart to find its Beastie when the sweetest scent caught its attention once more, drawing its attention to the lab doors. Somewhere outside was the thing the wraith really wanted. The Beastie, so warm and soft, so sweet and strong. With an overabundance of enriched aether that called to a more primal part... The wraith ached to find it, claim it and consume it. It moved as if possessed, one hand cradling the damaged flower carefully as another reached out and pressed against the door.

  
The wood groaned under the weight and the door popped free of the latch with a snap, splintering off into the hallway beyond. The guard standing watch turned to address the vandal only to come face to face with a creature from one's darkest nightmare. His scream trailed off with a wet gurgle as the wraith made swift work of all that stood in its way, preventing it from reaching the treasure at the end of that delicious scent.

  
As the wraith vanished into the hall, Aulus finally moved from his hiding place. He double checked that the wraith wasn't making a return trip before he opened the linkshell communication on his tablet. "I need a cleaning crew in Research Lab Two." He said simply, hearing a wet gurgle from the corner that drew his attention. "Well, what do you know...? Make that a cleaning crew and an emergency chirurgeon, immediately." He ordered, hanging up the connection and tucking the tablet against his chest as he looked at Asahi's bloody figure, chest a mess of ribboned flesh and stuttering in a rise and fall as dark eyes glared defiantly up at him.

  
   "You're like a cockroach. Small, irritating and difficult to kill. How fitting." Aulus said before glancing back to the broken door and the blood stained hall beyond. "Now let's see where our Lord Zenos has run off to, shall we?" He asked Asahi, though he didn't expect an answer given his current state. With his tablet in hand, Aulus left the remains of his lab and the carnage that had ensued within it behind him as he followed the train of screams and blood in order to track the path of a very determined wraith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised wraith smut, but I just couldn't find a good way to segue into it comfortably. So spoilers, next chapter is going to be entirely smut-based and wraith!Zenos/WoL-centric since I know that's what everyone signed up for. Cheers~!


	18. Monster Mayhem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my depravity you filthy animals. This is OFFICIALLY the longest chapter in this fic, and it's all smut. What is my life?
> 
> Warnings: NON-CON. Monster fucking. Tentacles. Rimming. Blood. Seriously twisted shit. REALLY unsafe sex. Honestly, if you're gonna do the sex then do it safe people. Don't fuck monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Also heed the trigger warnings, I'm not your fucking babysitter. This is very much non-con so if you have issues with that then why the hell are you even here?

It was uncomfortably quiet after Asahi and his men left. The guard outside would make the odd shuffle or cough every once in a while but aside from that there was nothing. No yelling for help or anything one would constitute towards there being anything out of the ordinary. Just a lonely guard standing stationary outside of a seemingly random door.

  
But beyond that door, the captive was hard at work. It had taken time, hours in fact to eventually move the chair from the center of the room over to the crates stacked along one of the walls. After scanning the rough wood for a few minutes, the sight of a bent nail was almost too good to be true. Sure it had taken some effort and the discomfort of a broken nail or two, but eventually the restrained warrior was able to pry the nail loose without making too much sound and begin a genuine escape attempt.

  
The first creep of red out of the corner of his eye was passed off as a figment of his imagination. A trick of the light. Nothing worth diverting his attention from the nail he was currently using to break free of his bonds. But the blood curdling scream of the guard outside the door was definitely real, and so was the sound of something crunching wetly, some kind of viscous liquid hitting the stone flooring outside. Then the red didn't seem quite so imaginary.

  
It crept under the heavy doors like wandering fingers, seeking out the space beyond. It looked like smoke but behaved unlike anything he'd ever seen before. There was a light tapping at the door, the scratch of nails against the wood. Then a voice he had only heard in his worst nightmares, from a mouth that had no lips but many teeth.

  
   " _Beastie..._ " The voice purred. The doors began to groan, as if pressure was being put on them. The intricate metal coiling that decorated the door popped and crackled, rivets snapping loose and spitting off into the room. A sharp sting against his cheek was the result of one of those whizzing past his head, cutting entirely too close. The feeling of wet warmth on his cheek said he had been cut, but that was the least of his problems. The doors were splintering, dark and aged wood splitting away to reveal the pale, untouched innards, and then they finally surrendered to the force being applied on the other side.

  
The doors burst open and then all he could see was red. It swarmed in, filling the room in its entirety to the point where even the feeble light from the window was snuffed out. The warrior chose not to breathe lest he inhale the smoke that suffocated the room around him. Again that voice rattled out, seemingly to come from everywhere while at the same time practically pressing against his left ear.

  
   " _Beastie..._ "

  
Even if he wasn't holding his breath the warrior was sure he wouldn't be able to breathe when that voice practically slithered into his brain. The memory of a skeletal face, sharp teeth and the sensation of drowning made him feel like he was choking. Even through the thundering pound of his heart he could hear that voice from his nightmares. Nightmares that he thought he was finally free of.

  
There was a strange purring sound, the slight rumble of it vibrating up his back. It made the hairs on every inch of his body rise and a shiver ripple down his spine in direct opposition to the direction of the rumble. Torn nails dug into the arms of the chair he was restrained to as the warrior closed his eyes. This wasn't real. He was having another nightmare, like before. The one on the beach had felt real too, the first time he had seen that red monster up close. This was just another dream and if he tried hard enough, he could wake up.

  
The sensation of being touched wasn't real. The ghostly feeling of hands dragging up his arms and over his shoulders. His back vibrated slightly again, and he could swear he felt breathing against his neck. All signs of an overactive imagination, brought on by stress and a recent blow to the head. Despite the fact that he knew he hadn't been hit hard enough to cause any real damage aside from a busted and swollen lip. The warrior squeezed his eyes shut even harder and finally felt his lungs give, screaming for oxygen. The room smelled like ozone, slightly burnt and with a slight metallic taste in the air.

  
   " _Mine..._ " The voice cooed and the warrior was brought back to the memory of pale skin above him, the sharp heat of something pushing into his body. Of pleasure mingling with pain in a twisted concoction that made something dark and ugly rise through him. Self loathing for being so weak, for not fighting back harder despite knowing that there had been nothing he could do. He felt the ropes loosen on his wrist, the nail finally having done its work on the knot, but the minute he reached to free his other hand he felt something wrap like a vice around his rope-burned wrist. Alarm rang through him, his subconscious begging him not to look, but he did.

  
Blood red fingers wrapped tight enough to dig into the flesh, causing a sharp sting and traveled up an equally red arm. He couldn't see much further past that, but when he felt that purr again, it was right against his neck. The sound of air dragging in had him stiffen in response, knowing he was being smelled. Fear clawed through him, but when he pulled at his wrist to free it, it drew a growl from the owner of the red hand, warning him to be still. With his other limbs still tied to the chair, there weren't that many more options open to him.

  
There was no warning, no premeditated growl or indication. Just the fiery burn of dozens of needle-like teeth sinking into soft flesh. Like a hot brand being pressed against his skin, the heat was unlike anything he ever felt, and an agonized scream ripped from the lungs of a captive animal.

  
The wraith felt it to the core of its being. That draw of pure aether. A smell so delicious that its mouth watered with the desire to taste, to indulge. Skin so soft and warm, firm muscles and hair that begged to be touched and pulled. The carnal cravings were new, alarming. It had always felt that hunger to consume, but never in its entirety before. The creature was held captive in a room with no means of escape, like an animal caught in a trap. A beast led to the slaughter. The room was practically bathed in that rich scent to the point where the wraith couldn't help but stretch out to every corner to get as much of that scent as it could. But nothing smelled as strongly as the source itself.

  
Red, fresh on its cheek stood out to the wraith. Red like the hand that wrapped around that flailing limb. An attempt to escape the trap, but it would not leave him again. The wraith called to the beast, marveling in the way those bright eyes widened, wondering if the pulsing in the room was from the flowers, so overjoyed to be reunited, or from the heart pumping that crimson delight through those delicate veins.

  
The wraith circled its beast, purring and crooning in affection. The aether contained within the delicate flesh vessel was like a drug, calling to be consumed to the point of overdose. The wraith couldn't resist, the hunger was too great. Nothing had ever been enough, no matter how many lives were torn asunder under sharp teeth and raking claws. But nothing had smelled as good as this, been so tempting as this. So when that delicate neck was exposed, taunting the wraith with the offer of what could be under the skin, it couldn't resist. The maw opened with a crackle and teeth dug deep.

  
The resulting scream vibrated through its jaw, the entirety of the wraith quivering with delight. Aether flowed in, sweet and dizzying in abundance and the monster drank deep. Dark crimson stained the soft skin, staining a perfect canvas the same shade as the depraved creature that feasted. Warmth spread through cold appendages, sensation returning to numb fingers that could feel the fluttering of a hammering pulse in a wrist that looked much too delicate in its grasp. The Beastie had lost weight, looking more like a shadow of his former self... a sentiment that felt almost familiar.

  
The wraith growled softly, the thoughts confusing and eventually ebbing away as it consumed the aether so readily available from its captured prey. Trussed up so beautifully, presented for the taking. As the wraith felt the pulse under its touch start to slow, it withdrew with a pleased sound. A long tongue, much too long to belong to anything but a monster, slithered out and lapped away the sluggish crimson, revealing the remains of its bite. It would scar, no doubt. A mark to claim the beautiful creature in its grasp. The wraith crooned, well fed and feeling drunk with energy. Feeling stronger than it had in so very long.

  
The hand around the Beastie's wrist loosened, but didn't leave the soft skin. Instead long red fingers trailed up along an arm that tensed and flexed under the touch, as if trying to ward it off by sheer will. The wraith brought its hands up, cupping a jaw set stubbornly to withhold any more screams. Tilting the Beastie's head back against its shoulder, the wraith crooned again and nuzzled its cheek against the extended tendon of that exposed neck, freshly marked with its teeth.

  
   " _Look... at... me..._ " The wraith cooed, wanting to see those bright eyes. The ones from its thoughts. Angry and defiant, full of spite and fire. It ached to see it. To be seen. But they stayed shut in defiance, long lashes casting shadows over a face that had thinned over time. The result of lost sleep and a poor diet, only recently having been filling back out. The wraith rattled out a hiss, moving like a phantom from behind the warrior, practically shrouding him in a blood red cloak of mist.

  
   " _Look at me._ " The wraith demanded this time. Again that defiance. Like the beach, in the water. That Hyur that made the Beastie laugh. The memory of that made the wraith snarl and shove the chair backwards, sending the warrior toppling to the floor with no hopes of breaking his fall. Though he was spared cracking his head against the floor by tucking his head to the chest, despite the strain it put on teeth marks that refused to stop bleeding sluggishly. But the shock got the desired result, and the warrior's eyes opened in panic.

  
   " _LOOK AT ME!_ " The monster screamed in fury and desperation. The wraith swarmed the bound warrior, two long arms slamming to the floor on either side of the warrior's head, and a vicious face with empty eyes stared back. Those bright eyes stared into the empty sockets, frozen like a deer in headlights as that unsettlingly long tongue slid out from the teeth-ridden maw and lapped away the blood that stained the sharp points. Once again a purr rumbled through the wraith, and slowly it lowered down towards the restrained warrior. "Beastie..." It cooed affectionately.

  
Like the magic spell had been broken, the warrior snapped his attention away and began to struggle against the restraints, though the nail had slipped from his fingers in the fall to lie uselessly out of reach. That didn't stop him from yanking at the ropes in a vain attempt of escape as red a red hand lifted and pressed against his chest to feel the thundering heartbeat there. " _Beastie._ " It said again, almost lovingly. The warrior flinched at the touch, his face paling as a protest leaped to his lips. The wraith growled a warning, leaning down even further. Empty sockets seemed to stare deep into the captive male's soul, the absence of anything resembling an eye making the sensation of being watched that much worse.

  
The chest under the wraith's hand rose and fell in heavy pants, and the struggling didn't cease. Trying to escape. The wraith didn't like that. Not when it finally had its Beastie where he belonged. The large maw crackled open again, a hiss slipping free before the wraith's claws were cutting the bonds keeping the male restrained to the chair. Instantly the warrior's fist flew up and connected to that haunting face, catching the wraith off guard and making it recoil with a screech of indignation. Using the small gap he had won himself, the warrior shoved himself to his feet and bolted for the door.

  
Something wound around his legs and instantly cut off his momentum, sending him careening to the floor with all the air making a vacancy of his lungs, leaving him gasping as he tried to crawl the rest of the way to the door. That same something that wrapped around his legs tightened and began to pull, dragging him back to the center of the room despite the warrior's efforts to wriggle free. A hand in his hair had the warrior sitting up on his knees with a cry of pain, another hand wrapping around his neck and pressing down on the fresh bite mark as the wraith nuzzled its face against the undamaged side and breathed in through the slits that made up its nose. The warrior tried to tell himself that the shaking in his limbs was just adrenaline and not the fear that he could feel curling tightly in his abdomen as his hands came up to fight and scratch at the red hand around his neck. The fingers pressed down on the sides of his neck and for a moment the warrior felt faint, his head spinning as the circulation was cut off to his brain, making his limbs feel like they were numb and soft, useless.

  
The wraith purred into its Beastie's neck, the hand in that dangerously soft hair finally releasing the strands only to trail back down to that hammering heart beat before slipping further. The wraith cooed softly at the cry of panic as those long fingers slipped down between long legs to cup at the warmth there. Again those struggles began again, and once again the wraith pressed down on the artery in the Beastie's neck to keep him still and quiet, but still conscious. That same long tongue slithered out again and slid along soft skin, savoring the taste of fear and defiance left in the thin layer of sweat that broke out across the flesh. The metallic tang of blood made the wraith ache to bite down again, its entirety quivering at the idea. It curled its fingers upwards between the Beastie's legs, cradling the weight it found there before its mouth opened again and those teeth once again sunk their claim into impressionable flesh.

  
The body in its arms undulated in a way that made the wraith's form burn, the unbidden cry making the wraith's head spin as the aether and blood quenched its thirst. With its teeth so close to a vital artery, the warrior had gone completely still, unwilling to risk his life fighting a battle he wouldn't win. The wraith's hand cupped him between the legs, its fingers rocking and pressing in a way that haunted him. Another time and another place, feeling pleasure from the hands of a monster. His body shook, and he knew he couldn't lie to himself about adrenaline anymore, not when his nightmares had become a reality. This was what it felt like to truly be afraid.

  
The wraith wanted to touch more, to feel the soft skin it knew hid behind the strange layers of fabric. The clothes, unfamiliar in the memories of the Beastie. Wrong. But it would mean having to release one hand to remove the garments. Either the hand at his neck, keeping the Beastie still against his teeth, or the one currently filled with the weight of reluctant pleasure. No, it didn't want to release either. But if it didn't want to use the appendages it already had, then maybe it was worth it to make some more? The rich aether had fed the monster, and the monster wanted to touch. Yes, it would be easy, so very easy to touch...

  
Like serpents slithering from the shadows, tendrils of red mist spread and solidified. To touch, to feel. To tease and claim. The warrior jerked against the wraith's teeth in panic when he realized what was happening, much to the wraith's distaste. The Beastie would cut himself and bleed out if he moved like that. He needed to not move, to let himself be touched and felt. Tendrils wound tightly around thrashing limbs while others slithered into the openings of those incorrect clothes and tore them at the seams so they fell away. The wraith moved its hand from between its Beastie's legs for that, but it was worth the moment of dissatisfaction when it came back to cup bare, warm skin.

  
The wraith purred and cooed, finally releasing its jaw with a crackle and pulling back to lap up the seeping blood. Two marks on either side of the warrior's neck reflected back at it. Not perfectly symmetrical, but perfect to the monster. Tendrils moved again, sliding up along silky thighs, a stomach that quivered at the touch. The wraith's tongue slipped over a flexing shoulder and slid down over the heaving chest to tease at nipples that beaded despite protests, tempted by the warmth and wetness of the slick, snakelike tongue.

 

Satisfied that the Beastie couldn't wriggle free, the wraith moved its hand from that slender neck, marveling at the sight of its bites. Marked. Claimed...

  
   " _Mine._ " The wraith hissed again, satisfied as its tongue flicked across that heaving chest again, teasing pert nipples to be sensitive to the touch. At the same time the hand between the warrior's legs moved, cupping and rolling its palm, touching and exploring. But it didn't do this without a goal in mind, as the warrior's legs slipped ever so slightly more open the wraith took advantage of the space and slipped a tendril between two perfect globes of flesh in a seek to find what it wanted. At the first prod of the tendril the warrior yelled again, this time in denial of what the wraith wanted. The wraith growled and prodded harder, finding its target with the very tip and reveling in the noise it drew from its prey.

  
   " _Open for me Beastie... Let me in._ " The wraith prompted, though it wouldn't wait for permission. Ignoring the attempted shaking head, the tendril writhed and then pushed before spearing into the tight channel. So tight, painfully tight and the Beastie was screaming. The wraith hissed and pushed in deeper, not understanding why the Beastie was making so much noise compared to... before.

  
The waves were back again, there for a moment and gone the next. Silken sheets under grasping hands. Bodies slick with sweat as they moved together. Heat and pleasure, pleasure and heat. Over and over again. The wraith stilled, its head tilting ever so slowly before it carefully withdrew the tendril, noting the broken sound of pain it pulled from the once defiant warrior. The tendrils around the warrior's limbs moved as well, puppeteering his body into a better position. Face down, hips raised. The Beastie tried to struggle but his strength was waning. So much blood and aether was lost in such a short time, rendering him kitten weak.

  
Empty eyes stared at the reddened entrance, swelling and stained with the barest streaks of blood. The wraith leaned closer, both hands now free to rest on those quivering haunches. They pushed apart the cheeks to expose the warrior more intimately before that tongue once again appeared from its mouth. Wet, it needed to be wet. Soft and wet, loose to fit more. The pointed tip of the wraith's tongue touched the swollen skin, then teased around the fresh streaks of blood. The warrior's hips jerked, trying to pull away but the wraith's hands clenched down, claws digging into flesh as a warning not to move. It wanted to devour, to feed its fill and to fill its Beastie in return. But it would be patient, because the Beastie would break too soon if it wasn't.

  
The tongue circled, then pushed in just slightly before retreating. So tight, and so warm. It wanted to be inside that warmth, to fill its Beastie to the brink. Again it licked, saliva slick and coating the twitching ring of muscles before pushing forward again, long tongue wriggling until it breached properly, but it was thinner and more dexterous than the tendril from earlier and with the slide of saliva it parted those resisting muscles easily. The warrior panted against the floor, trying to protest but also clenching his jaw against any further noises he might be inclined to make. Though he will make noises, it was only a matter of time. The wraith would not be satiated so swiftly. Its Beastie was back in its grasp after so long, and it wouldn't be letting him go again.

  
The wraith's tongue writhed, pushing deeper into that heat. Licking and wriggling, stretching before giving relief to let the muscles come back to quivering and shaking before pushing in deep to spread them wide again. There were moments when the wraith got too enthusiastic and would nick the delicate skin with razor sharp teeth, but it would always retreat a moment to lap up the blood it spilled before once again returning to its task.

  
Eventually the wraith retreated fully, pulling its tongue free with a slick pop as it watched those muscles twitch and wink in an attempt to close. The warrior had his forehead grinding into the floor, his teeth clenched in denial but the weeping line of his hardened cock revealed everything. The wraith purred in satisfaction this time before lifting its tendril again. A slide of its tongue along the blood streaked end got it wet, and with more care than earlier it came down and prodded at the warm and wet hole. It pressed forward slowly, and despite the Beastie's attempt to clench and deny access, it slipped inside wetly and drew a bitten back groan from between those gritted teeth.

  
The wraith shuddered at the heat clamping down. So wet and soft inside, a temptation unlike any other. The wraith wanted to fill that warm space, to fill all the empty spaces within its Beastie. Make him aware that the wraith is there, that it's always there. Watching the tendril move in and out of that clutching hole, the wraith crooned and tilted its head in quiet consideration. More. It wanted to fill more, so deep inside and leave a part of itself behind so that its Beastie would not be able to leave again.

  
The red mist pulled in, tendrils winding together as they individually coiled up around the warrior's thighs, each one prodding curiously before applying pressure to the already stretched rim. The warrior's head snapped up from the floor, a yelled protest being smothered by another tendril winding around his neck and squeezing. Either breathe or deny the inevitable, that was the choice. Muscles shook, and the flesh resisted but eventually surrendered to the insistent pushing. The soft hole spread wider, taking in a second tendril as deep as the first one. Still not full enough. Not deep enough. A third rose, the tendril around the Beastie's neck tightening in warning before yet another pushed at that straining hole. The scent of fresh blood drew the wraith back again, once more lowering down to lap at that hole until it softened and surrendered before the third tendril writhed its way in. The wraith cooed when it saw how well the Beastie was taking it all so deep. So much was inside. More could be inside though. Deeper inside.

  
The slick sounds of the tendrils withdrawing at once was horrifyingly loud, the wraith's thick saliva having done its work to ease the way for what was next. The red mist condensed in, wrapping around the warrior until the light returned to the room, barely casting any visibility aside from setting the room aglow in a glowing orange sunset. The wraith studied the warrior's shape in the light as its lower half formed. Long legs lined with muscles, bare feet resting on the stone floor. It felt familiar in a long forgotten way, almost like deja vu. The wraith pulled the warrior upright again, his legs refusing to support him and his face slick with sweat. But the state between his legs remained, unwillingly hard and leaking, twitching for what was to come next. A tendril teased at the head, making the Beastie flinch and breathe shakily in an attempt to calm down and regroup, but the wraith didn't give him the chance.

  
While the warrior was still soft and pliable, the monster slid inside to the hilt, an almost human sound slipping free of that monstrous maw at the sensation of those quivering muscles and wet heat clamped down. But it wasn't as tight as before, because the muscles had been softened and stretched. To make way for more, to fill him more. The wraith's maw crackled open again in a mockery of a grin before the tendrils not tasked with touching the warrior in some way fell away to mist again only to rejoin with the main form, winding around the place where they connected and condensing it again. Thicker, longer. The Beastie twitched and shuddered at the sensation of the shaft inside him suddenly growing in width and length, to the point where it was beginning to feel painful again. Too wide and too deep at the same time, leaving him vulnerable and unable to do anything about it, and yet despite everything his erection hung heavy between his legs, his body a traitor to his mind.

  
Everything stilled for a moment when the length inside him stopped growing, and for a brief moment the warrior was sure that the wraith was just going to leave it at that. But then it began to move, hips rolling to withdraw the monstrosity inside him only to snap forward and bury it deep. With the tendril around his neck, any cries or protests were cut off into wheezing whimpers, the physical need to keep breathing taking priority. Over and over it moved, withdrawing from his body only to return to the cavity it seemed to be carving out of his insides. The pain was only slightly outweighed by the pleasure as it moved and pressed just past that spot inside him that made everything light up. It kept him on edge, unable to do anything about the sensations tormenting through his body.

  
His hands were being moved after a minute, lowering from their outstretched position to come down in front of his body. The wraith's hands gripped his hips, claws digging into the skin as that deadly mouth skimmed against the flesh of his shoulder again. " _Feel me Beastie..._ " It crooned to him, forcing the warrior to reach down between his legs. He tried to pull his hands away, but the sharp sting of teeth in his shoulder warned him against fighting back. " _Feel yourself._ " It demanded, not letting him pull his hands away from the evidence of his own depravity. His stomach lurched oddly, and for a moment he worried he was about to be sick as he wrapped his hands around himself.

  
   " _Yessss._ " The wraith crooned again, licking at the bite wounds it had left earlier. A defeated whimper rippled out of the warrior unbidden, his hands tightening around his shaft when once again the monster moved inside him and brushed just a hair too far past that spot that kept him on edge, giving him a confusing mix of pain and pleasure. The tendril around his neck loosened and slithered away, letting the warrior drop his head forward in shame and drag in painful breaths as each thrust in punched one sound after another past lips bloodied by the reopening of his split lip. The wraith pulled him back, pressing back to chest and practically swarming its Beastie in its touch. Warm skin, so soft and supple and intoxicating to touch had the wraith running its hands all over its Beastie, tendrils wrapping around those hips when they faltered to the rhythm of the rough thrusts. A hand came up again, fingers brushing along the reddened skin along the warrior's neck before cupping his chin and pulling his head back. The wraith's tongue slithered out of its mouth again and brushed along the bloodied lips, snarling when said lips snapped shut tight. The hand on the Beastie's jaw tightened, the wraith's hips slamming forward in punishment and making the warrior gasp in pain and surprise. The moment the wraith had the opening its tongue slithered into the warm and wet cavern of his mouth, long red fingers preventing him from biting down on the slick appendage. The wraith's tongue brushed against the much smaller one in a mimicry of a kiss before pulling away, leaving the Warrior's mouth open and panting, unable to close.

  
A tendril rose a moment later, this one much smaller and delicate than the others. It was coiled around the damaged flower the warrior had been carrying on him all this time. Seeing this, the warrior began to struggle again, unable to smother the noises that punched out of him as the wraith moved harder and faster inside his body as the tendril brought the flower closer. The wraith rattled a hiss that sounded suspiciously like a soothing shushing sound before the tendril snaked in and pushed past the warrior's tongue and down his throat with no regards to his gag reflex. The warrior convulsed and choked as the tendril slithered down, delivering the flower deep into his body before pulling free swiftly. A moment later the hand on his jaw was covering his mouth, preventing anything from coming up and making a mess, or attempt to rid his body of the flower.

  
It felt hot in his stomach, burning in a way that wasn't inherently painful but still wasn't pleasant. Combined with the way the wraith was moving, as well as his own hands still trapped in stimulating his own erection, the orgasm that crashed over the warrior was shameful and disgusting. His release spilled over his fingers and onto the flagstone flooring below, and the wraith purred loudly against his ear, finally removing its hand from his mouth so he could breathe freely again. It took advantage of his sensitivity and began to hammer into his lax body, driving deep as if to imprint the memory of this in his very body. The body behind him tensed suddenly, and the warrior felt the monster inside him pulse, but nothing came out. But the sensation seemed to be the same, because a moment later the wraith let him loose with a pleased coo and let the warrior slip from its grip, setting him on the floor gently.

  
The warrior panted and shook, shame crawling through his body as he tried to curl in on himself and hide from the reality of what happened. A hand around his ankle had the warrior kicking weakly, trying to pull away, his voice hoarse as he tried to snarl defiantly. The wraith merely pinned him and lifted his leg, baring his body to that monstrous length again. " _More..._ " The wraith hissed, much to the warrior's horror and dismay.

 

(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·-·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)

 

   "Fascinating." Aulus said from the doorway hours later, the sun long since gone and the dim room barely illuminated by the tablet in his hand. The castle had been in an uproar for the last few hours after the wraith's escape from its containment unit, but it hadn't been hard to track it down. All they had to do was follow the trail of bodies. He had happened upon the scene mid coupling, and had taken it upon himself to record the event for further research. Despite being a creature of condensed aether and instincts, it still felt that carnal need towards the Warrior of Light. The knowledge that Asahi had actively been hiding their enemy within the walls of the Empire itself would not end well for the young man, but that was a matter to think about tomorrow. For now he needed to get the wraith contained, as well as the Warrior of Light under proper lock and key before anyone got curious about the blood stains in the hallway, or the screams that had drawn Aulus in the first place.

  
Currently the wraith was curled up in the corner with the warrior in its lap, still connected sexually and it seemed to be obsessively petting the man's stomach. The warrior himself was unconscious, covered in blood and semen, though from the amounts on his body and the room it seemed that the wraith itself had not released, or did not generate any kind of semen in the first place. Something else that Aulus found himself curious and willing to investigate further. Perhaps in more manageable conditions. The guard he had brought with him was standing on the other side of the hall, trying not to throw up at the dismembered sight of someone he once worked with. Aulus merely wrinkled his nose at it, knowing that scolding the prince for making a mess of his kill would fall on deaf ears.

  
Aulus stepped into the room finally, and watched as the wraith hissed in warning and wrapped its arms tighter around the warrior, unconsciously pressing a cock that was almost alarmingly disproportionate deeper inside and drawing a discomforted whimper from the once proud warrior. Aulus merely raised his hands to show he had nothing to serve as a weapon as he moved closer, circulating the mess in the middle of the room. "Now now, no need to be like that. You've caused enough of a mess." He scolded, glancing at the unconscious male. He would need medical attention, as well as tests. Who knows what the wraith had done to him in the time it took Aulus to arrive. "No one is going to take him away... Now come along." He said, motioning for the wraith to follow him, surprise flickering across his face when the wraith moved, carefully lifting the warrior and letting the mist bleed away, leaving his body whole but not as grotesquely enhanced. Watching the wraith follow him easily, Aulus tilted his head and once again glanced at the warrior in the wraith's arms. "Simply.... fascinating." He murmured to himself curiously as turned to lead the way out of the room. They won't be returning to the lab, as there had been too much interest in it recently and with the Ambassador's recent... accident, it would be better to move his research to somewhere more... formidable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this whole thing in one sitting because I wanted to post it while it was still Halloween, I kind of hate it and feel like it doesn't match the rest of the story so I might rewrite it in the future. Also this is a work of fiction. So before you get all SJW in the comments on me again about the subject of non-con then please note: This is a work of fiction. The scenario's and characters don't actually exist. This does not mean that I condone rape. If you have problems with non-con in fics then here's a tip: Don't read fics that have non-con as one of their major tags. Later sluts! <3


End file.
